. 


f 

140  T 

- 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 


EMORY    J.    HAYNES. 


BOSTON: 

JAMES    II.    EARLE,    PUBLISHER, 

178   WASHINGTON   STREET. 

1887. 


Copyright,  1886. 
BY  JAMES  H.  EARLE. 


All  rights  reserved. 


INDEX  TO  CHAPTERS. 


I.    MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY 7 

II.    A   GRAVE   CRISIS 25 

III.     Ix   CONFLICT          47 

IV.     ON  THE  AVENUE 71 

V.    A   SERIOUS   QUESTION 94 

VI.    IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM in 

VII.    BUILDING  A   MANSION *  136 

VIII.    THE   OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE 143 

IX.    THE   DECISION 159 

X.     CARRYING  IT   OUT 180 

XI.    ON  THE   ICE •  .    .    .    .  202 

XII.    STEPHEN   CRANE 224 

XIII.  THE  STRIKE 239 

XIV.  A  NIGHT  OF   TERROR 249 

XV.    TROUBLE  AT   HOME .  270 

XVI.    BURIED  IN  A  GREAT  CITY 297 

XVII.    LONG  BRANCH 316 


2061923 


INDEX   TO  CHAPTERS. 


XVIII.  DISAPPOINTED 345 

XIX.  In  TROUBLE 361 

XX.  A  CALL 377 

XXI.  HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS 410 

XXII.  DISHONORED 436 

XXIII.  OUT  OF  LIFE  INTO  LIFE 449 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


i. 

MY    BEAUTIFUL    BOY. 

' 4  A/T Y  Beautiful  B°y ! " 

1V_L  \vith  a  pin-head  she  wrote  it  on  the 
frost-work  that  overlaid  the  window-pane,  that 
brilliant  winter's  morning.  The  shafts  of  light 
from  oriflamme  banners  in  the  eastern  sky  made 
every  letter  gleam  with  gold.  From  over  the 
snowy  hills,  through  the  leafless  branches  of  old 
trees  all  aglow;  from  the  glinting  roofs  of  the 
low  village  cottages  around,  she  seemed  to  draw 
the  glory  of  this  day-dawn  for  the  writing  of 
these  words ;  and,  now,  from  the  whole  heavens, 
as  she  traced  the  letters  larger,  clearer,  and  with 
added  touches  of  grace,  — "  MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY." 
The  wealth  of  advancing  light  seemed  to  realize 
the  uses  to  which  this  mother  was  putting  it.  It 
rejoiced  to  be  dipped  by  the  pen  of  such  a  love; 
it  filled  all  the  letters  and  poured  over  on  the 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


silver  pane,  on  the  whole  sash,  through  into  the 
little  room,  and  warming  it  more  than  the  fresh- 
started  fire  of  wood  that  was  snapping  on  the 
hearth.  But  —  prettiest  touch  of  all  in  the  rising 
sun — he  shed  his  luster  all  over  the  graceful 
form  of  the  writer  herself,  burnishing  her  gray 
locks  as  they  waved  about  her  brow,  freshening 
her  pallor  with  the  hues  almost  of  girlhood,  for 
the  instant,  and  painting  her  into  such  a  charm- 
ing picture,  that  the  man,  who  alone  saw  it, 
paused,  speechless,  with  the  door-knob  yet  in 
his  hand.  Then,  very  softly,  with  slippered  feet, 
the  gentleman  drew  near  her.  The  sunrise  was 
impartial:  indeed  there  was  splendor  enough  for 
them  both ;  enough  to  touch  his  somber  study- 
gown  into  color,  to  fire  his  strong,  scholarly  face 
with  a  smile  not  its  own;  enough  to  adorn  his 
gray  hairs,  above  an  expansive  brow  which  made 
you  think  of  the  open  sky;  enough  sunlight  was 
there,  had  he  been  so  disposed,  and  had  he  carried 
a  real  pen  in  his  fingers,  to  have  enabled  him 
to  write,  also,  "Mv  BEAUTIFUL  BOY." 

But  the  father  was  content  simply  to  read  what 
the  mother  of  his  son  had  etched  so  delicately. 
His  arm  stole  about  her,  giving  her  a  surprise 
that  awoke  her  from  her  reverie.  But  she  was 
not  startled ;  she  turned  her  sweet  face  up  to 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY. 


his,  and  met  him  with  that  nameless  ease  which 
they  only  have  who  are  much  accustomed  to, — 
who  live,  indeed, — in  each  other's  society.  For 
the  minister  and  his  wife,  this  man  and  this 
woman,  were  ever  together.  She  was  in  his 
study  before  him  and  awaiting  him  this  morn- 
ing. She  was  often  here,  by  this  very  window, 
silent  for  hours,  then  communing  for  moments 
only,  as  he  looked  up  from  sermon-writing  and 
rested  in  the  tones  of  her  clear  voice.  Never 
did  "God  join  together"  two  spirits  more  con- 
genial than  these  had  been,  now  almost  thirty 
years. 

He  bent  to  her  tenderly,  and,  kissing  her, 
looked  into  her  gray  eyes,  which  promptly  be- 
gan to  fill  with  tears,  now  that  sympathy  had 
added  the  one  thrill  more  necessary  to  that 
effect.  Then  he  said, — 

"That  is  what  he  is,  Julia,  just  that!  Our 
beautiful  boy !  Our  pure,  clean,  noble  boy, 
my  love.  Boy,  Julia?  He  is  a  man  now,  and 
a  manlier  man  than  our  Paul  does  not  walk  the 
earth!" 

"I  thank  God  for  it,  Sylvester!"  she  added, 
fervently.  "  And  I,  his  mother  and  his  confi- 
dante, do  know  all  his  manly  heart." 

The    slightest    shadow   of    a   doubt    flitted    over 


IO  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


the  husband's  face.  No  one  else  would  have 
caught  it,  but  she  did,  and  the  gray  eyes  asked 
the  question,  quick  as  thought,  of  his  blue  eyes. 
He  did  not  answer,  but  bent  over,  stroking  her 
hair,  and  saying,  — 

"Was  the  parting  just  as  hard  as  ever,  love, 
on  this  his  last  vacation?" 

"I  suppose  that  was  it,"  she  responded.  "At 
any  rate,  he  has  been  constantly  in  my  thoughts 
since  I  awoke;  and  just  now  I  was  picturing 
him  as  about  arrived  at  his  room  in  the  college. 
You  remember  that  early  train ;  and,  oh,  Sylves- 
ter, he  has  been  such  a  comfort  to  me,  this 
visit !  Was  he  ever  so  tender  and  so  strong  ? 
How  handsome  he  grows !  Why,  it  seems  to 
me,  as  I  walk  beside  him,  as  I  measure  my 
feeble  steps  with  his  vigorous  strides,  shortened 
to  my  need;  as  I  cling  to  his  arm  beneath  that 
broad  shoulder;  as  I  glance  upward  into  his 
cheery  face,  realizing  how  tall  he  is  —  it  seems, 
father,  an  impossibility  that  one  so  grand  should 
have  been  born  to  frail  little  me.  Was  he  not 
magnificent,  —  our  boy?" 

Her  eyes  had  lost  their  question  in  her  trans- 
port, and,  therefore,  his  face  slipped  off  the  du- 
bious shadow  which  had  raised  that  question, 
while  he  yielded  to  her  mood  and  said, — 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY.  II 


"  Yes,  yes ;  all  that  you  say,  and  more.  But 
you  and  I  —  why  do  you  disparage  our  own  good 
looks  ?  Seriously,  if  you  please,  are  we  not  tall 
enough  ? " 

Shaking  her  head,  she  promptly  lapsed  into 
sadder  mood  again.  "I  am  worn  and  broken;  I 
can  not  realize  that  I  ever  had  health  and 
vigor.  This  life  of  ours — no,  forgive  me.  I 
know  that  always  pains  you ;  but  even  you  are 
not  the  giant  whom  I  married.  We  two  are  two 
bundles  of  nerves.  The  churches,  I  trust, " 

"Have  grown  richer  as  we  have  wasted,  my 
love.  Yes,  yes,"  and  he  released  one  of  her 
hands,  that  he  might  softly  fetter  her  lips  with 
his  own  long  white  fingers.  "Yes,  you  know, 
Julia,  that  is  the  conclusion  which  we  long  ago 
agreed  to  reach  with  thoughts  in  that  vein.'" 

With  that  this  gentle  lady,  not  disputing, 
though  she  removed  his  hand  and  interlaced  her 
fingers  with  his  own,  stood  silent  as  her  glances 
ran  about  the  cosy  study,  out  through  the  south- 
ward-facing windows,  which  revealed  the  village- 
church,  her  husband's  "  workshop,"  as  he  loved 
to  call  it,  and  then  slowly  back  again  to  this 
eastward-gazing  window,  where  her  etching  was 
now  melting  in  the  sun.  Noticing  the  running 
letters,  she  smiled  sadly  and  said,  — 


12  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  So  is  Paul's  day  advancing,  and  melting  his 
fond  childhood,  like  this  childhood's  title,  out  of 
all  memories,  mayhap,  but  my  own.  Nevertheless, 
husband,  as  I  see  him  grown  so  giant-like,  I 
arrest  him,  as  it  were,  by  imagination,  and  shut 
him  up  in  his  little  boyhood  —  his  babyhood,  even, 
I  think  of  him,  my  only  boy,  as  he  was  not  so 
very  many  years  ago,  when — you  remember, 
Sylvester,"  she  exclaimed,  in  abrupt  and  nervous 
gleefulness,  "when  he  used  to  stand  upon  this 
very  rug,  his  little  bare  feet  taking  the  steps 
that  we  could  count  then." 

The  clergyman's  eyes  grew  moist ;  he  was,  in 
fact,  almost  upon  the  point  of  taking  alarm  at 
the  over-wrought  mood  of  the  frail  lady,  who 
seemed  to  be  well-nigh  beside  herself  in  this 
unusual  agitation  from  parting  with  her  son. 

"Sit  down,  Julia,"  he  said,  gently  constraining 
her  into  his  study-chair,  which  he  quickly  rolled 
before  the  grate.  "We  have  reason  to  be  vefy 
careful  of  you,  sweet  wife  and  mother  of  my 
children,  these  days,  as  you  yourself  well  know." 
He  took  her  rocker  for  himself,  as  he  tossed 
his  pen  on  the  desk,  and,  drawing  very  close, 
determined  to  give  her  all  this  morning,  if  nec- 
essary, sermons  or  no  sermons. 

"Do   not    fear    for    me,    Sylvester,    I    am    more 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  DOY.  13 

tranquil  now.  I  will  sit  a  moment,  after  which 
I  will  walk  down  the  street  with  one  of  the 
girls  for  the  marketing.  But,  as  I  was  saying  — 
my  heart  is  full  of  Paul  yet  —  what  a  comfort 
he  is !  What  a  strong  support  for  our  age  he 
will  be,  when  he  is  fairly  launched  in  business 
life !  I  foresee  that  he  will  be  a  great  merchant. 
He  has  mind,  manners,  tact,  iron  energy,  un- 
breakable health,  and  is  the  very  soul  of  integ- 
rity. He  will  undoubtedly  amass  a  fortune;  but 
I  have  prayed  much,  —  oh,  so  much!  —  for  him 
that  he  trust  not  in  uncertain  riches.  He  will 
be  a  foremost  man  in  all  benevolence,  in  who 
knows  what  vast  schemes  of  philanthropic  wealth? 
He  will  be  that  grand  creature,  a  Christian  mer- 
chant, a  truly  Christ-like  rich  man!" 

She  had  spoken  rapidly.  Her  pale  cheeks  be- 
gan to  glow  again  with  tell-tale  spots.  She  had 
evidently  been  all  over  this  ground  of  dream- 
land a  thousand,  thousand  times  before.  And 
she  seemed,  almost,  to  be  arguing  with  her  own 
conscience;  in  the  ill-definable  emphasis  of  her 
tones  at  least,  so  it  seemed,  as  she  portrayed 
her  son  a  rich  man,  a  Christian.  Or  was  she 
possibly  forefending  against  some  anticipated  crit- 
icism from  her  husband,  who  had,  for  his 
life-work,  "toiled  for  naught  of  this  world's 


14  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

goods,"  living  on  a  beggarly  salary  of  a  lew 
hundred  a  year?  Of  course  this  was  only  one 
of  a  thousand  conferences  between  these 
two  concerning  their  only  boy's  future.  But 
never  before  had  she  spoken  quite  so  fervently. 
He  would  graduate  soon;  the  near  event  was, 
doubtless,  her  present  inspiration. 

"A  Christ-like  rich  man?"  There  was  no  at- 
tempt' at  rebuke  in  her  husband's  tone,  as  he 
repeated  her  own  last  words. 

"Indeed,  Sylvester,  it  sounded  a  shade  incon- 
gruous to  me,  as  I  spoke,  I  acknowledge.  To 
be  sure,  Christ  was  not  rich  as  —  as  I  hope 
Paul  will  be.  But  Paul,  being  Christ-like  out 
of  this  humble  home  and  poor  enough  to  begin 
with,  having  become  rich,  might  be  of  Christ- 
like  spirit." 

"True  enough,  Julia.  No  one  who  ever  knew 
you  could  attribute  mercenary  temper  to  you,  my 
blessed  helper  of  all  these  laborious  years.  I 
do  not  wonder  that  you  portray  to  yourself 
Paul's  home  as  our  home,  by  and  bye."  Un- 
guardedly he  uttered  the  sigh  of  a  weary  man, 
as  he  reclined  in  the  rocker  and  bent  his 
looks  on  the  grate. 

"Possible?"  "And  thou,  too,  Sir  Noble  Heart, 
harbor  a  few  traitor  thoughts?"  "Home?" 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY.  I  5 


"Home  by  and  bye?"  "Were  these  the  words 
that  betrayed  thee?" 

Such  were  the  swift  questions  which  her  eyes 
asked,  as  they  glanced  up,  searching  him.  Then 
the  minister's  wife,  long-patient  helpmeet,  deter- 
mined, with  a  great  throb  of  emotion,  to  pin 
her  heart  upon  her  sleeve  for  him  to  see.  She 
leaned  forward,  kindling  with  every  word,  until 
he  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look  so 
peerless;  and,  though  he  trembled  for  her,  he 
dared  not  restrain  her  overflow  of  soul. 

"Sylvester,  this  home  the  boy  shall  give  us, 
by  the  good  blessing  of  the  God  who  gave  him 
to  us, — a  home  at  last!  Oh,  I  have  dreamed  it 
from  his  very  cradle;  the  cradle  which  we  have 
moved  from  town  to  town,  and  one  of  the  few 
things  we  have  called  our  own;  the  cradle  of 
his  sisters  each  in  turn  before  him ;  then  his 
last ;  and  I  used  to  bend  above  the  dear  old 
rocking  crib  wherein  he  lay,  and  say,  '  He, 
this  one,  this  man-child,  shall  make  us  a  home 
by  and  bye.'  As  his  own  little,  childish  heart 
has  been  wrung  with  homesickness  on  our 
moves  from  place  to  place;  as  I  have  seen  him 
often  taking  his  sisters  to  some  hill-top  that 
looked  the  farthest  down  the  horizon  towards 
the  distant  village,  out  of  sight,  from  whence 


1 6    •  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


we  were  last  removed ;  as  I,  with  them,  have 
felt  the  strangeness  of  each  new  parish  circle, 
and  endured  its  curiosity  about  my  children,  the 
boy  himself  bristling,  and  I  rebuking  him  for 
all  our  sakes;  —  oh,  how  have  my  secret  hopes 
run  out  to  that  fair  day  when  the  child  should 
build  a  home  for  this  itinerant  company!  —  at 
least  for  himself.  My  girls  would,  no  doubt, 
marry  in  time " 

"And  possibly  marry  young  clergymen?"  His 
face  was  white  as  the  snow;  yet  his  rebuke 
went  no  farther  except  in  a  peculiar  rising  in- 
flection which  he  gave  his  question. 

With  a  little  start  she  looked  full  at  her 
husband,  for  a,  mement,  and  said  nothing.  But 
that  look  had  said  much ;  it  had  said,  "  You 
know  better.  Such  a  thing  is  too  improbable  to 
be  considered  in  connection  with  either  our 
Nora  or  Bella." 

Resuming  her  speech  again,  this  wife  of  a 
preacher  unconsciously  preached  to  him.  She 
had  grown  into  his  copy,  as  wives  generally  do. 
It  came  of  these  years  in  which  she  had  sat 
in  the  pews  before  him,  so  deeply  solicitous  for 
his  success  that  she  always  seemed  to  herself 
both  "to  hear  for  everybody  and  to  preach  for 
him."  She  gestured  like  him,  now,  though  in 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY. 


a  feeble  way;  her  emphasis  was  like  his;  her 
sentences  were  shaped  like  his;  she  easily  dealt 
in  longer  sentences  and  more  continuous  than 
most  women  would  have  used  in  such  familiar 
conference. 

"  I  have  watched  that  dear  young  girl  to 
whom  Paul  is  engaged.  How  sensitive  she  is ! 
You  often  sec  her  blush  so  prettily.  How 
quick  her  high,  though  gentle,  spirit  would  be 
to  resent  the  thousand  sibillations  that  make  the 
ears  of  a  pastor's  wife  tingle!" 

"But   what   health   she   has!"    he   put  in. 

"And  I  once  had;  but  hers  is  of  a  kind  to 
continue  and  to  bloom  only  in  the  sheltered 
garden  of  home.  She  would  wither  under  the 
blaze  of  this  public  life  that  I  have  led,  as  I 
have  withered.  Then  our  Paul  would  have 
what  you  have  had,  what  nearly  every  clergy- 
man of  our  acquaintance  has,  an  invalid  wife  — 
and  hence  a  clouded  home.  Paul's  Clara  is  too 
frank  and  yet  too  coy.  This  life  in  the  par- 
sonage would  kill  her  by  inches,  as  it  has  me; 
that  is,  if  she  could  ever  bring  herself  to  at- 
tempt its  necessary  submissiveness,  which  I 
doubt.  Hence  I  am  so  glad  that  Paul,  loving 
Clara,  will  not  be  called  to  serve  his  Lord  in 
pulpits.  Why,  the  boy  himself  has  a  perfect 


1 8  DOLLARS  Ai\TD  DUTY. 

passion  for  home,  for  familiar  localities,  for  the 
same  old  hills  looking  in  every  morning  at  his 
windows,  the  same  dear,  neighborly  hearts  about 
him  from  year  to  year!  It  is  a  birth-mark.  I 
gave  it  him !  I  have  been  homesick  for  years ! 
Were  it  ever  so  humble,  an  abiding  place! — a 
home  which  births  and  deaths  had  made  sa- 
cred !  But,  Sylvester,  think  of  it :  the  birth- 
chambers  and  death-chambers  of  our  children 
are  scattered  all  over  this  wide  New  England. 
It  is  a  day's  journey  from  one  lonely  little 

grave   to   another " 

"  Julia,  Julia ! "  he  broke  in,  catching  her  hot 
cheeks  in  his  two  cold  palms.  "  Do  not  continue  ! 
I  can  not  bear  it !  And  besides,  though  perhaps 
you  have  not  thus  far,  yet  you  may  overstep 
this  limit  and  say  some  wicked  thing  :  something 
that  our  loving  Lord  could  not  overlook.  God 
knows  how  true  and  right  your  great  loving 
heart  is !  and  that  no  mortal  ear  save  mine  has 
ever  heard  your  plaint ;  that  you  have  never 
suffered  our  children  to  harbor  one  adverse 
thought,  but  have  taught  them  high  esteem  and 
unspeakable  veneration  for  their  father's  calling 
in  the  world.  Heaven  bless  you,  and  bless 
heaven  for  you !  But  for  you  I  should  have 
long  ago  turned  my  back  upon  it,  —  this  effort 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY.  1 9 

to  live  for  others,  to  do  them  good  in  spite  of 
themselves,  this  contest  with  penury,  contest  with 
fickle  helpers,  contest  with  false  brethren  in  the 
church,  and  contest  most  severe  with  my  own 
selfish  heart !  It  is  well  enough  to  speak  out 
between  ourselves ;  but  we  are  too  self -respect- 
ful to  speak  out  to  the  world.  Neither  the 
church  nor  the  world  has  ever  known  from  our 
lips  what  we  have  suffered.  We  look  to  God. 
We  please  not  men,  but  God.  And  he  holds 
our  crowns  in  his  hands ! " 

Men  —  but  the  idea  of  it,  in  this  staid 
minister  of  the  parish !  the  idea  that  he  was 
poetic  enough,  or  boyish  enough,  or  human 
enough,  —  he  played  the  lover  so  in  smoothing 
her  gray  hair  and  twining  its  stray  locks  about 
his  fingers,  in  calling  her  the  fond  old  nick- 
names, in  telling  her  what  would  lose  its  luster 
if  inked  down  here,  how  great  was  his  affection 
for  her.  Why  ?  Had  he  some  blow  in  reserve  ? 

"  But  for  all  that,  Sylvester,  I  have  never 
been  the  ideal  minister's  wife,  as  Clara  could 
not  be.  See  now,  the  preacher's  wife  should 
have  iron  nerves,  not  human  nerves.  She  should 
have  a  slow,  strong  heart,  not  a  fluttering  thing 
like  Clara's  and  mine.  She  should  have  a 
moveless  countenance,  or,  better  still,  a  natural 


20  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

smile,  a  smile  born  on  her,  as  some  do  have, 
and  which  is  always  in  place  without  thinking, 
when  one  is  combing  her  hair  as  when  she 
stands  in  the  church-porch  :  and  not  a  poor 
human  face  that  is  clouded  with  a  pain  or  dull 
with  thought  and  beaming  only  when,  sincere, 
the  heart  is  full  of  light." 

"  I  protest  that  you  have  made  a  good  min- 
ister's wife." 

"  No.  I  have  been  too  much  devoted  to  my 
own  children,  my  own  husband,  my  own  home." 

"  We  have  had  five  comfortable  years  in  this 
village,  Julia.  You  have  made  this  little  house 
very  pretty."  His  eye  wandered  about  the  neat 
room,  out  into  the  small  cottage-like  apartments 
which  opened  one  into  another  along  the  strag- 
gling and  quaint  old  structure,  wherein  every 
nook  and  corner  bore  some  mark  of  that  fine 
taste  at  adornment  so  natural  to  his  wife  and 
daughters. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  she  responded,  following  his 
glances  and  welcoming  their  compliments.  "  And 
you  have  done  wonders  for  our  little  lawn,  with 
the  trees  and  vines.  How  pretty  they  are  in  this 
frost !  I  pronounce  it.  the  most  tasty  cottage 
in  the  village,  —  which  fact  some  people  in  the 
parish  do  not  like.  It  is  a  noble  view,  is  it 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY.  21 

not  ? "  Her  face  kindled,  as  she  gazed  through 
the  now  transparent  windows,  down  upon  the 
winding  highway,  bordered  with  white  dwellings, 
and  away  along  the  icy  river  with  its  clouds  of 
steam  rolling  up  from  the  falls.  Crosston  lay 
at  their  feet. 

The  pastor  sat  so  intently  regarding  her,  as 
she  now  arose  and  began  to  tug  his  study  chair 
into  its  proper  place  by  the  desk,  and  as  she 
playfully  turned  over  his  papers,  remarking,  — 

"Your   sermon-skeleton    is    waiting." 

He  responded,  "  You  are  happier,  now, 
Julia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  talked  out  my  burden  of  bright 
hopes  for  the  present.  Are  you  happy  ? "  This 
last,  with  a  sudden  look  of  slightest  apprehen- 
sion. That  dubious  shade  was  on  his  face 
again. 

"  Paul  is  God's  creature  more  than  ours,  my 
wife,"  said  he,  gravely.  "  God  loves  him,  does 
he  not,  more  than " 

"  Stop,  Sylvester ! "  She  turned  on  him  a 
pleading  gaze.  "  Do  not  tempt  me  to  answer 
that  last  question  !  " 

"Our  son  has  made  you  his  confidante  in  all 
things,  Julia  ? "  he  resumed,  gently  smiling 
through  the  cloud  which  was  now  unmistakable. 


22  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"My  husband,  have  you  something  grave, 
dread — "  but  she  did  not  say  dreadful  —  "some- 
thing to  say  to  me,  out  of  Paul's  mind,  that 
he  has  not  said  to  me?  —  something  that  I  have 
always  expected  to  hear,  yet  hoped  I  might 
never  hear  ?  " 

"  Unless   it   was    God's   will,    my  wife." 

"  Unless  —  unless  it  was  God's  will ! "  She 
spoke  all  the  words  bravely;  just  as  she  had 
lived  bravely  and  obediently ;  and  in  that  one 
sentence  revealed  more  than  volumes  of  the 
matchless  character  that  she  was. 

He  knew  her.  He  had  not  walked  these 
years  at  this  woman's  side  without  learning  what 
springs  to  touch.  He  read  all  the  inward  strug- 
gle of  this  beloved  form  now  trembling  at  the 
arm  of  his  chair  and  leaning  hard  on  his  shoul- 
der. And  he  knew,  too,  what  reply  she  would 
make  if  he  spoke  Paul's  secret  to  her  with  his 
next  breath.  But  he  had  not  the  heart  to  speak 
out  now.  No,  not  on  this  morning  when  her 
shattered  strength  had  given  him  more  than  usual 
alarm  ;  not  this  morning,  when  he  had  seen 
her  air-castles  in  the  sun  and  her  joy  in  them, 
as  he  had  never  seen  them.  He  was  puzzling 
himself  how  to  drop  the  theme  and  leave  her 
in  the  sunshine. 


MY  BEAUTIFUL  BOY. 


"Has    God  called  him?" 

Every  word  of  her  question  throbbed.  He  felt 
their  thrill  to  the  tips  of  her  thin  fingers  that 
pressed  upon  his  shoulder.  She  stood  indescriba- 
bly heroic,  as  he  at  least  could  see  her.  Doubt- 
less many,  doubtless  most,  of  those  who  read  of 
her,  can  see  nothing  heroic  about  her.  They 
will  fail  to  understand  what  it  is  all  about,  —  her 
deep  emotion,  —  a  little  disappointment.  Her  son 
is  to  be  a  minister.  Half  the  pious  world 
"would  be  glad  to  see  a  son  of  theirs  a  cler- 
gyman ;  would  be  proud  of  him  !  "  Glad  with 
the  shallow  gladness  of  the  uninformed  ;  proud 
with  the  foolish  vanity  of  those  who  do  not, 
can  not  know  what  that  vain  word  means  when 
coupled  with  such  a  work  in  life.  Incredible, 
that  a  prophet's  wife  should  not  desire  to  be  a 
prophet's  mother  ?  Then  ye  will  be  blind  to  the 
majestic  sacrifice,  as  no  doubt  ye  are  to  many 
other  deeds  of  self-submission  in  such  lives  ; 
blind  to  the  beauty  of  Julia  Havens'  pious  res- 
ignation. For  she  was  struggling  to  be  able  to 
reconcile  the  gladness  with  the  sadness  of  one 
who  knew  a  prophet's  honor  and  a  prophet's 
load.  Heaven  help  her  in  this  moment  !  Surely 
she  will  find  some  one  kind  reader  of  her  story 
who  will  also  read  aright  her  heart.  The  joy, 


24  DOLLARS  AND  DU7Y. 

fche  sorrow,  the  hope,  the  fear;  and  the  disap- 
pointment, latest  of  many. 

Sylvester  Havens  sprang  out  of  his  chair  and 
folded  her  in  his  arms.  He  would  not,  for  her 
precious  life,  have  answered  her  that  day !  For- 
give him,  if  you  think  there  is  any  thing  to  be 
forgiven,  for  he  evaded  reply  by  asking, — 

"  Paul  would  surely  have  told  you,  mother, 
would  he  not,  had  he  felt  that  God  called  him 
to  be  a  minister?" 

Without  doubt  Julia  Havens  would  have  in- 
sisted on  a  plain  answer  to  her  plain  asking, 
but  that  a  pretty  girl,  "Paul's  Clara,"  suddenly 
appeared  upon  the  threshold,  having  stolen  on 
them  unannounced. 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  2$ 


A    GRAVE    CRISIS. 

tt  T — I   came   over   on   papa's   errand." 

-*•  "My  dear  child,  good  morning.  No,  do 
not  fear  that  you  ever  intrude, "  said  Mrs. 
Havens,  turning  and  attempting  to  recover  her 
composure. 

"Papa  sent  me  to  say,"  the  young  girl  stam- 
mered out,  in  charming  confusion  over  her  up- 
lifted muff,  for  she  could  not  of  course  be 
deceived  and  knew  that  she  had  intruded,  "to 
say  that  Mr.  Havens  was  to  take  any  one  of 
our  horses." 

"And  replace  my  one  lame  beast,  calked  in 
yesterday's  drifts,  Clara,"  said  the  pastor,  ad- 
vancing and  kissing  the  ruddy  cheek  that  nestled 
in  its  hood  of  down.  "But  your  father  was  to 
accompany  me.  I  greatly  depended  on  his  sup- 
port." 

"  Papa  has  to  meet  a  large  customer  at  the 
factory,  I  was  to  add."  She  spoke  so  lightly, 
as  if  her  errand  was  nothing.  The  pastor  heard 


26  DOLLARS  AND  DTUY. 


it  so  heavily,  as  if  her  errand  was  something 
hard  to  bear. 

"Is  it  that  church-debt  conference?"  asked 
Mrs.  Havens  in  anxious  tones. 

"Yes,  at  Mr.  Roache's  office  this  afternoon," 
was  her  husband's  thoughtful  reply.  Then  turn- 
ing again  to  this  fair  and  innocent  messsenger, 
he  asked,  "And  did  your  papa  say  nothing 
more?  He  may  send  me  a  note,  later  on?" 

"Why,  no,"  was  the  reply,  as  she  threw  back 
her  heavy  furs.  "Papa  said  you  would  know  just 
what  would  please  him,  and  of  course  would  do 
it,  no  matter  what  the  other  gentlemen  might 
say.  He  remarked  to  mamma,  I  think  —  he  was 
smoking  his  morning  cigar  in  the  library,  with 
the  newspaper,  and  to  be  disturbed  then  always 
annoys  him,  you  know — that  he  believed  he  had 
an  appointment  with  you  about  the  church-debt, 
which  he  supposed  he  should  finally  have  to 
pay.  Papa  Norcross  was  in  one  of  his  hard 
moods.  He  should  not  speak  as  if  he  owned 
the  church ! "  Then  she  tossed  her  pretty  head 
and  was  almost  minded  to  be  serious  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  but  reconsidering  that  purpose,  as  one 
who  never  long  harbored  the  disagreeable,  she 
caught  up  one  of  Mrs.  Havens'  hands  and 
kissed  it  lovingly,  all  pretty  dimpled  smiles  again. 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS. 


"  I  know  your  papa  pretty  well  by  this  time, 
my  child,"  said  the  pastor,  seating  himself  and 
thoughtfully  turning  a  book,  end  over  end  on 
the  desk. 

The  wife's  look  into  her  husband's  face 
seemed  to  repeat,  "Yes,  we  know  him  well. 
He  owns  many  things.  He  has  many  a  hard 
mood  and  is  growing  harder  as  he  grows  in 
owning." 

"Does  it  trouble  you,"  asked  Clara  Norcross, 
"that  papa  puts  you  off  so  cavalierly?" 

"You  dear  little  heart,"  Mr.  Havens  replied, 
"you  must  not  read  my  face  so  quickly.  We 
had  been  a  little  sad  over  Paul's  departure." 

"  Because,"  she  continued  with  spirit,  ignoring 
Paul  —  from  whom,  by  the  way,  she  had  a  tele- 
gram that  very  moment  in  her  muff,  —  "  because, 
if  it  does,  papa  shall  go  with  you.  He  never 
refuses  me.  I'll " 

"No,  stay";  for  she  was  wrapping  her  seals 
about  her  to  fly, — the  spoiled  child  of  the  village 
autocrat.  "  You  could  do  nothing.  It  is  an  old 
trouble,  this  church  debt.  It  is  breeding  trouble 
in  the  church;  that's  why  my  countenance  fell." 

"  Dear,  dear ! "  said  the  girl,  stamping  the 
small  foot,  "though  mamma  and  I  are  members, 
how  little  we  know  of  church  affairs,  or  church 


28  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

people,  save  you.  It  seems  as  if  church  affairs 
irritated  everybody  lately.  They  certainly  are 
making  papa  very  cross  and  unlovely,  mamma 
and  I  know,  and  make  this  home  of  yours  very 
sad  and  very  lovely,  —  that  is,  I  love  you  more 
when  I  see  how  much  you  have  to  endure." 
She,  herself,  looked  both  vexed  and  lovely. 

•'  But  Clara,  dear,"  said  the  pastor,  "  I  do 
assure  you  that  there  are  no  happier  moments 
in  my  whole  life  than  when  I  am  preparing 
my  message,  or  preaching  the  word  of  God ! " 

He  spoke  so  fervently,  that  the  young  thing 
was  abashed  a  little,  and  then  added  brightly, 
"Why  do  they  not  Jeave  you  to  that  part  then? 
But  oh,  I  know  since  I  Ve  been  coming  here, 
how  small  a  part  that  is  of  what  you  do,  Pas- 
tor Havens !  This  managing,  managing,  manag- 
ing people ! "  and  again  she  pouted,  while  her 
fingers  fumbled  at  that  precious  telegram,  and 
itched  to  produce  it. 

"Managing,  and  being  managed!"  sighed  the 
clergyman,  and  in  the  next  instant  forced  a 
laugh, —  the  dear  hypocrite!  Indeed,  knowing  all 
that  he  knew,  his  inward  repentance  for  his 
outward  playfulness  was  so  violent  that  his  fea- 
tures flushed. 

"  Is  it  something  so  serious  ? "     You   can   never 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  29 


deceive  a  good  woman  who  loves  you  by  a 
false  laugh. 

"Is  it  a  very  grave  crisis?"  These  questions 
were  not  spoken,  but  written  on  the  faces  of 
both  women. 

"  My  wife  and  my  child,"  said  the  man,  "  I 
am  heart-sick  and  discouraged  with  this  matter 
that  is  thrown  off  so  lightly  on  my  shoulders 
by  Mr.  Norcross.  But  I  do  not  wonder  at  Mr. 
Norcross'  action ;  that  is,  in  one  sense.  He  is 
independent,  is  a  man  of  vast  affairs;  he  gets 
his  neck  out.  To  me  this  is  a  most  serious 
day.  I  can  tell  you  no  more  now." 

Clara  Norcross  was  the  first,  because  the 
younger  and  quicker.  She  flew  to  him  and, 
seating  herself  on  his  knee,  fluttered  out  her 
telegram. 

The  shrewdest  forethought  could  have  availed 
no  better  for  the  peace  of  a  trouble  crisis.  Of 
course  it  instantly  engrossed  Mrs.  Havens  and 
Miss  Innocence,  its  possessor.  A  telegram  is 
the  entrance  of  a  person.  This  one  told  of  Paul 
Havens'  safe  arrival  at  Amherst  College ;  nothing 
more,  for  fear  of  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  village 
operator,  a  gossip.  Yet  with  this  message 
Paul  was  back  again,  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
on  these  two  affectionate  women's  tongues.  The 


30  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

good  man,  having  listened,  escaped  on  its  tid 
ings,  and  without  further  cross-examination,  from 
the  room. 

While  these  two  women  are  chattering,  a  few 
essential  biographical  scraps,  and  a  pen-stroke 
or  two  of  portrait-painting,  are  in  place. 

Of  Mrs.  Havens,  it  is  enough  to  say,  since 
it  is  hoped  that  the  reader  has  had  a  fairly 
good  look  at  her  gentle  form  and  loving,  weary 
face,  that  in  these  five  and  twenty  years  that 
she  had  been  Sylvester  Havens'  wife,  she  had 
borne  him  two  daughters,  now  grown  to  woman- 
hood, besides  this  son  Paul,  the  youngest  child. 
She  had  been  an  invalid  from  the  rocking  of 
his  cradle.  It  was  doubtful  if  she  would  ever 
be  any  thing  else.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
well-known  judge  of  the  State  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, and  had  enjoyed,  in  her  youth,  all  the 
advantages  which  such  a  father  could  lavish 
upon  her.  It  was  supposed  that  she  would  in- 
herit money,  whenever  the  judge  died,  and  this 
was  considered  by  many  wise  people  a  questiona- 
ble blessing  for  the  young  clergyman,  her  hus- 
band. But  she  was  saved  this  "  misfortune," 
some  said  providentially.  The  generous  judge  died 
poor,  which  is  not  uncommon  with  the  generous. 
The  good  wife,  however,  had  been  wed  in  love, 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  31 


and  for  love  and  in  love,  and  home  was  happy. 
That  she  was  ever  unhappy,  worn  and  broken, 
though  the  sunniest  invalid  you  ever  saw,  were 
conditions  accepted  by  her,  "as  the  inevitable  re- 
sults of  causes  from  without,  ask  other  minister's 
wives."  You  have  her  own  words,  and  doubtless 
you  would  have  believed  her  had  you  ever 
heard  her  speak  them,  —  not  many  ever  had. 

Clara  Norcross  is  Mr.  Lemuel  Norcross'  only 
child.  The  finest  house  in  this  prettiest  of  New 
Hampshire  villages  is  her  home.  Her  doting  father 
will  give  it  to  her  by  and  bye.  He  worked 
very  hard  for  her  during  many  years;  that  was 
when  she  and  his  now  great  factory  were  both 
in  their  infancy  and  childhood.  If  he  works 
very  hard  now, —  and  he  does,  like  a  slave, —  it  is 
because  his  factory  drives  him.  Doubtless  he 
thinks  that  he  is  still  toiling  to  provide  for  this 
precious  girl.  He  indulges  her  heart  full.  She 
manages  the  manager  of  the  whole  smart  vil- 
lage of  Crosston ;  yet  neither  he  nor  she  knows 
it,  for  he  is  so  abstracted,  and  she  so  artless. 
She  is  just  as  dear  to  her  mother,  which  is 
somewhat  curious,  since  her  father  and  mother 
have  grown  a  thousand  miles  apart  in  tastes 
and  likings,  late  years.  This  child,  favorite  of 
dissimilars,  unites  them.  Her  father  is  a  power 


32  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

in  the  church,  as  he  is  in  every  thing  in  this 
village.  He  finds  much  time  for  the  manage- 
ment of  ecclesiastical  affairs,  from  coal  bills  to 
the  pastor's  sermons.  The  mother  and  daughter 
of  a  truth  live  the  religion  which  their  husband 
and  father  causes  to  be  preached — pure,  lofty, 
and  Christ-like.  Does  the  manager  live  it?  Is 
not  a  manager  a  manager  ? 

Clara  Norcross  is  not  very  theological.  She  is 
simply  bright  as  a  gleam  of  the  morning  among 
these  granite  hills,  unselfish  and  kind  in  the 
homes  of  the  poor  and  the  sick,  a  demure  little 
Miss  Propriety,  yet  a  very  mischief  in  all  inno- 
cent fun  and  jollity,  as  if  it  were  the  first 
of  Christian  duties  to  be  glad  —  the  pure  in 
heart. 

She  is  a  pretty  girl,  you  see.  Perhaps  not 
tall,  with  every  line  of  her  person,  standing 
there  in  the  study,  the  graceful  curve  of  beauty. 
Her  hair  is  brown,  her  eyes  are  brown,  her 
cheeks  are  brown  and  red  —  in  a  word,  she  is 
twenty  and  perfectly  healthy.  That  makes  beauty 
always  if  the  heart  be  pure ;  but  in  her,  with 
such  features  and  such  form,  it  is  a  delicious,  a 
bewitching  sort  of  beauty — which  Paul  Havens 
longs  this  very  moment  to  see  in  real  flesh  and 
blood,  as  he  studies  her  photograph  in  the  dis- 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  33 

tant  college  room.  They  are  to  be  married  next 
autumn.  It  is  now  January. 

"We  have  set  the  time,  Mamma  Havens," 
said  Clara,  the  instant  they  were  alone.  Then 
promptly,  possibly  blushing  at  her  own  bold- 
ness with  that  never-before-spoken  title,  she 
buried  her  face  on  "Mamma  Havens'"  shoulder. 

"Who  has  set  the  time?"  asked  the  eldei 
lady,  in  affected  surprise. 

"Paul  and  I,  before  he  went  back," — the 
sounds  very  faint  and  muffled. 

"When  is  it,  to  an  hour?  Of  course  you 
have  it  all  clown  to  the  small  detail  of  the  hour." 

"September  loth,  Wednesday  of  the  week"; 
then,  with  her  head  thrown  suddenly  up,  and 
her  brown  tresses  in  charming  dis-array,  her  face 
a  vision  of  coy  delight,  "at  4  o'clock  p.  M.,  in 
the  church!"  With  which  she  stood  off  to  study 
the  effect  upon  her  auditor. 

"  But,  Clara,  Paul  has  n't  a  cent  left,  the  day 
he  graduates,  in  July  !  " 

An  important  fact,  you  would  have  said ;  and 
the  speaker  betrayed  decided  anxiety  as  she 
searched  the  face  before  her.  Miss  Norcross' 
reply  might  answer  the  question  which  her  hus- 
band had  .  left  unanswered,  namely  :  —  Had  Paul 
heard  that  awful  call  to  the  ministry  ? 


34  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Why,  Mrs.  Havens,"  quickly  continued  Miss 
Cruse,  "money  does  not  trouble — that  is,  I  mean, 
my  Paul  will  not  lack,"  with  a  bashful  laugh. 

"  True  :  but  he  demurred  at  your  supplying 
money  to  a  great,  capable  idler,  I  know." 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  that  is,  he  hesitated  about 
something  and  seemed  greatly  troubled.  Papa 
could  not  quite  make  him  feel  at  ease  about 
coming  into  the  office." 

"  Is    he   coming   into   your  father's   office  ? " 

The  question  sprung  out  as  if  it  were  a  spark 
from  the  dear  lady's  gray  eyes. 

"Why  —  why,  my  precious  friend,"  answered 
the  startled  girl,  "  are  you  not  pleased  ?  You 
surely  do  not  feel  irritated  by  papa's  provoking 
ways,  to  that  degree  ? "  And  the  playful  girl 
grew  older  and  more  dignified  by  seconds. 

"No,  no.  Not  that.  That  is,  we  shall  love 
all  of  Paul's  other  home.  But  I  can  not  explain 
just  why  I  am  so  eager  to  know  if  Paul  has 
arranged  to  be  your  papa's  partner.  Do  n't  ask 
me  why." 

"Yes,  he  has.  We  go  to  Europe,  to  Lyons, 
on  papa's  business  for  a  year.  Paul  will  learn 
faster  there,  papa  thinks,  some  things  about  the 
silks.  Oh,  dear !  I  do  n't  understand  that  part 
of  it.  But,  after  three  mortal  hours  in  the 


A    GRAVE  CRISIS.  35 

library  with  papa,  Paul  came  out  into  the  draw- 
ing room  to  mamma  and  me,  and  his  hands 
were  cold  as  ice  ;  poor  fellow  !  " 

"  Did   he    seem   happy  ?  " 

"  How  could  a  mere  college  boy  be  very 
happy,  deeply  agitated  by  three  hours'  business 
in  that  terrible  smoking  room  ? " 

"  Then   he   was   not   happy,   do  you   mean  ? " 

"  Not  that,  either,  dear  Mrs.  Havens.  He 
said,  'I  have  sealed  my  fate,'  and  kissed  mamma 
and  me  in  a  wild  sort  of  way." 

"  And  your  mamma  said  ? "  continued  Mrs. 
Havens,  smiling  encouragingly. 

"  Mamma  said,  '  I  am  truly  thankful  to  Heaven, 
Paul  Havens,  that  at  last  a  decision  has  been 
reached ;  thankful  both  on  your  own  and  my 
daughter's  account.'  Mamma  arose  to  the 
occasion,  you  know,  in  a  solemn  way  that  I 
never  saw  her  use  before.  Then  she  added,  in 
an  eccentric  vein  which  I  have  sometimes  seen 
in  mamma,  the  very  absurd  remark,  '  Paul,  I 
have  sometimes  thought  that  you  might  possibly 
be  a  minister.' "  The  narrator  laughed  a  pretty, 
though  cautious,  respectful,  and  curious  little 
laugh :  a  ripple  that  had  a  world  of  character 
in  it,  —  one  of  those  sounds  that  may  mean 
many  things. 


36  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Was  she  also  half  fearful  of  such  a  destiny 
for  her  lover  ?  Did  she  wish  to  ask  some 
questions,  but  dared  not  ?  They  simply  studied 
each  other's  faces  for  a  moment ;  then  bent 
eyes  on  the  needle-work  which  by  this  time 
had  been  whipped  out  by  them  both.  Needle- 
work is  such  a  fortress  for  women.  You  can 
grow  silent  at  any  convenient  time  and  pretend 
to  be  looking  for  a  lost  thread,  or  how  to  tie 
a  knot. 

After  an  interval  of  silence,  Mrs.  Havens  was 
the  first  to  put  up  her  head  over  the  breast- 
work of  her  sewing  and  ask,  not  seeming  very 
curious,  "  And  what  did  dear  Paul  say  to 
that  ?  " 

"  About  becoming  a  clergyman  ?  He  made  no 
reply." 

"Your   mother   would   have   rather  liked  that?" 

"  Yes,  possibly,  mamma  is  so  good."  Then, 
after  biting  a  thread,  "  Mamma  says  we  are 
perfumed  with  factory  oil.  A  clergyman  is 
highly  genteel,  my  mother  often  says.  But  of 
course  what  the  life  may  really  be " 

"Your  mamma  does  not  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Havens,  as  she  gave  the  fabric  in  her  lap  a 
great  turn  over,  as  if  it  was  the  popular  opin- 
ion concerning  the  delights  of  a  clergyman's 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  37 


life.  Then  she  added  one  question,  nearer  to 
the  point,  though  apparently  equally  careless  of 
the  answer.  "And  your  father,  what  would  he 
have  said  had  a  clergyman's  son,  himself  intend- 
ing to  be  one,  asked  his  little  girl's  hand  ? " 

"  Papa  ?  The  idea !  He  has  even  been  calling 
me  his  boy.  He  wants  a  son  to  take  this 
precious  factory.  Why,  the  factory  is  papa's 
monument  —  that  and  the  village.  He  would  die 
broken-hearted  if  Paul  should  —  I  mean,  had 
chosen  the  ministry ! " 

The  next  question,  "  And  what  would  you 
have  said,  had  Paul  decided  on  the  ministry?" 
this,  Mrs.  Havens  did  not  ask.  She  thought, 
she  grew  very  busy,  finding  threads,  reviewing 
seams,  and  scanning  her  work.  Indeed  she  put 
on  her  spectacles,  which  were  becoming  to  her 
you  would  have  agreed,  and  hid  behind  them. 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Mrs.  Havens," 
cried  the  young  lady  at  length. 

Mrs.  Havens'  thoughts  were  very  grave ;  too 
much  so  for  expression.  She  had  got  thus  far 
in  them, — 

"  My  son  is  in  danger.  He  is  picking  out  a 
path  ;  he,  heretofore  so  frank,  so  direct,  so 
open,  he  has  decided  upon  one  thing  to  please 
Mr.  Norcross ;  he  has  certainly  intimated  quite 


38  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

another  thing  of  late,  in  his  lover's  talks  about 
his  possible  future  with  this  girl.  He  has  said 
something  to  my  husband  that  his  father  was 
very  glad,  oh,  so  piously  glad  to  hear.  He  has 
gone  back  to  college,  having  kept  silence  with 
me ;  this  upright  young  soul,  my  beautiful  boy, 
is  whirling  in  a  tempest ! " 

But  not  a  word  escaped  Mrs.  Havens'  lips. 
The  sewing  was,  fortunately,  very  much  en- 
tangled. 

"  It  is  mamma  with  the  sleigh.  See !  "  was 
the  sudden  exclamation  of  Clara,  as  she  arose 
and  beckoned  through  the  window.  "You  and 
Nora  or  Bella ;  there  are  seats  for  three  with 
mamma.  You  must  ride  down  into  the  village 
with  us." 

It  was  a  most  grateful  escape.  What  a  relief 
to  a  mind  which  knows  not  which  way  to  step 
next,  is  the  privilege  of  stepping  off  anywhither 
with  the  foot.  To  walk,  to  ride,  to  go !  —  no 
matter  which  way; — oh,  the  delight  of  motion 
when  the  counsels  of  the  mind  are  bound 
moveless ! 

"  New  horses  ? "  exclaimed  Nora  Havens,  a 
sprightly  girl,  a  black-eyed,  petite  creature,  who 
was  always  ready  with  her  house-work  done, 
always  ready  for  whatever  promised  a  jolly  hour, 


A   GRAVE  CRISIS.  39 


and  always  quick  to  notice  and  be  glad  in  her 
friends'  good  fortunes.  "  New  horses,  Clara  ? " 

"  Yes,  love,"  was  the  reply,  as  the  three  fresh 
passengers  were  being  greeted  by  Mrs.  Norcross 
at  the  block.  "New  ponies,  which  papa  gave 
me  this  very  morning." 

"To  console  you,  so  sad  at  parting  with  my 
brother,  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Nora. 

At  which  they  all  laughed  merrily;  except 
Mrs.  Havens,  who  was  almost  minded  to  enter- 
tain a  nervous  chill,  notwithstanding  they  all 
conspired  to  wrap  her  warm  in  the  elegant 
sleigh-robes. 

"Take  my  foot-bag.  It  is  fur-lined,"  said 
Mrs.  Norcross. 

Mrs.  Havens  declined  it,  thinking,  not  say- 
ing, "Paul's  feet !  They  are  amid  snares.  Will 
he  miss  an  honest  man's  way  ? " 

"A  brilliant  morning,  Mrs.  Havens,"  resumed 
the  lady  at  her  side.  "But  the  winds  are 
from  all  quarters  and  drift  this  fresh  snow. 
John,  do  n't  drive  so  fast  facing  the  wind." 

"  They  blow  every  which  way,  ma'am, "  an- 
swered back  the  privileged  old  coachman. 

"They  swirl  and  beat  about  him,"  thought 
Mrs.  Havens,  meaning  her  son.  "  Oh,  God ! 
that  I  only  knew  !  Hast  thou,  —  thou  whose 


40  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

calls  are  awful  if  disobeyed,  —  hast  thou  called 
my  son  ?  Has  his  own  heart  another  choice  ? 
And  yonder  great,  stone  factory  another?  And 
this  wife-to-be  another  ?  His  father  one  wish  ? 
I  ?  What  is  my  wish  but  his  happiness  in 
doing  his  duty  ? " 

The  villagers  looked  upon  the  load  with 
envy  as  the  turnout  sped  along.  The  proud, 
black  creatures,  whose  glossy  forms  turned  snow 
to  steam,  whose  performances  pleased  their 
pretty  owner  till  she  began  to  exclaim  with 
the  discriminating  compliments  of  a  genuine 
horse-woman;  —  these  the  village  people  evidently 
marked  as  being  new.  A  mean  and  jealous 
watch  the  people  kept  on  every  new  luxury 
that  the  village  lord  acquired. 

"And  there  is  our  pastor's  wife  along  with 
'em,"  said  Mrs.  Liscom,  as  she  gazed  after 
them  from  her  windows. 

"Yes,"  added  Miss  Dorothea  Baker,  a  single 
woman  of  well-known  age,  whose  sign  in  the 
world  was,  "DRESSMAKING  AND  FINE  SEWING," 
"Yes,  Sister  Liscom,  as  I  was  proceeding  to 
communicate,  they  do  say  that  it  is  evident 
that  our  pastor's  family  is  getting  very  worldly- 
minded,  in  view  of  the  wealth  Paul  will  marry 
with  Clara." 


A   GRAVE   CRISIS  4! 


"  I  'm  nigh  onto  sartin'  them  furs  on  Nora 
Havens'  back,  neow,"  continued  Mrs.  Liscom, 
"  was  give  to  her  by  that  Clara  Norcross ! " 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  said  Miss  Dorothea,  very 
precisely.  "The  minister's  daughters  and  Clara 
Norcross, — you  know  I  speak  as  an  artist, — are 
the  three  best-dressed  women  in  church." 

"  And  we  never  had  no  other  pastor's  folks 
that  the  Norcrosses  cuddled  up  to  so  ! "  said 
Mrs.  Liscom.  "  On  the  bias,  did  you  say  ? 
Where  is  that  fashion  plate  ?  Them  styles  are 
all  new  to  me."  She  was  searching  for  a 
high-colored,  cheap  publication,  which  purported 
to  give  the  latest  Winter-street  fashions,  Boston, 
Mass.  Mrs.  Liscom,  with  Dorothea's,  help  was 
"fixin'  up"  a  daughter's  wardrobe  in  hopes  that 
"this  ere  winter  won't  pass  without  marryin'  her 
off!" 

But  the  sleigh-full,  mostly  joyous,  and,  though 
gossipy, — gossiping  only  good  things  of  every  body 
mentioned,  — whirled  onward,  oblivious  of  what 
the  Mrs.  Liscoms  and  Misses  Dorothea  Bakers 
were  saying.  Ah,  guileless  reader,  oblivious  ? 
No,  no ;  but  a  thousand,  thousand  times  they 
had  and  shall  hear  it, — though,  to  be  sure  not 
for  this  one  happy  hour  as  the  ponies  fly  on 
their  way. 


42  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Good  Pastor  Havens  was  not  so  fortunate. 
He  was  asking  for  his  mail  in  the  post-office 
side  of  the  store,  which  had1  also  its'  dry-goods 
side.  Concealed,  as  the  clergyman  was,  by  the 
great  rack  of  boxes,  the  deacon  on  the  dry- 
goods  side,  buying  blankets,  did  not  see  him, 
though  the  deacon  saw  the  gay  sleigh  as  it 
flashed  past  the  window. 

"  Brother  Short,"  said  Deacon  Luce,  gravely 
addressing  the  young  merchant,  "sech  jinin'  of 
a  pastor's  family  with  the  rich !  It  all  comes  of 
that  son  of  his  'n  a  marryin'  Brother  Norcross' 
gal."  And  he  shook  his  head,  sincerely  distrust- 
ful of  the  future. 

"Well,  deacon,"  was  Mr.  Short's  reply,  "what 
possible  harm  can  there  be  in  that  ?  Besides,  I 
have  found  Paul  Havens  a  sensible  young  fellow 
and  he  is  not  our  pastor." 

"Much  harm,  I  say.  A  rich  minister  you 
can't  manage,  you  orter  know.  How  much  off  ? 
Come,  now,  you  aint  agoin'  ter  charge  me  full 
price,  bein  's  I  'm  a  brother  in  the  church,  are 
ye  ?  Ye  see,  young  Brother  Short,  as  how  ef 
Norcross  settles  on  havin'  the  pastor's  son  for 
his  'n,  'tain't  noways  likely  as  we  '11  get  a  change 
of  pastors  fur  years  ter  cum.  Norcross  '11  keep 
'em  here." 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  43 


"  Change  ? "  exclaimed  the  merchant,  almost 
hotly  "you  do  not  want  a  change,  do  you?" 

"  No,  no,  I  hain't  said  so,"  said  the  rich  old 
farmer,  owner  of  five  hundred  acres ;  "  do  n't  go 
fur  to  say  I  do ;  I  only  said  ef " 

And  the  rest  of  the  conversation  the  listener 
most  in  interest  would  not  suffer  himself  to 
hear.  But  as  he  lifted  his  feet  into  the  bor- 
rowed Norcross  cutter,  and  resumed  his  journey 
to  that  church-debt  conference,  poor  man,  he  had 
to  realize  a  new  load.  Was  the  old  deacon  jeal- 
ous and  discontent  ?  He  had  never  dreamed  of 
it  before.  Disturbed  by  such  a  trifle  ?  Not  a 
trifle  at  all.  This  engagement  of  Paul's  with  the 
great  man's  daughter  was  no  trifle.  It  was  a 
grain  of  bitter  seed,  just  sown.  The  village  had 
suspected,  feared,  guessed,  but  never  known,  till 
within  these  last  few  days,  and  the  student's 
visit  nearly  over.  The  church-debt  ?  That  was 
but  a  zephyr  in  comparison  with  the  high  winds 
that  might  now  begin  to  blow. 

"Trifles,  trifles,"  mused  the  clergyman,  climb- 
ing the  hills  and  whipping  little  gashes  in  the 
deep  snows  at  the  roadside.  "Lives  are  made 
up  of  trifles.  What  matters  it  to  all  this  church 
full  of  people  whom  Paul  marries?  Yet,  no 
doubt,  the  village  is  buzzing  with  the  news. 


44  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

And  Norcross  is  not  very  popular  —  is  too  im- 
perious." Then,  as  the  runners  creaked  and 
groaned  along  the  frosty  path,  the  solitary  driver 
seemed  to  himself  to  be  holding  conversation 
with  these  dissonant  sounds. 

"Reduced  to  child's  play — play — play,"  creaked 
the  runners. 

"  What  ?  —  my  great  calling  ?  "  answered  the 
pastor.  "I  deny  it  The  merchant's  bundles 
become  untied,  yet  he  patiently  ties  the  cord 
again,  for  gain.  These  souls  of  men  erratic, 
they  vex  me.  But  shall  I  not  be  patient, 
when  it  is  not  for  gain,  but  for  the  Lord's 
own?" 

"Impertinent,"    creaked   the   runners. 

"A  long  word  for  you,  that!"  was  his  reply. 
"  Who  is  free  from  impertinences  ? " 

"  It  is  these  small  stings  that  have  always 
fretted  the  children  of  th'e  parsonage.  High- 
spirited  Paul  —  Paul  —  Paul,"  screamed  the  run- 
ners. 

"But  my  son  has  heard  a  Voice,"  cried  the 
preacher.  "  If  he  has  not,  let  him  abide  among 
the  buyers  and  sellers.  If  he  has  heard  even 
a  whisper  of  the  Voice,  after  a  time  he  will 
find  a  hill-top  of  silence,  where  the  Voice  plain- 
ly speaks — as  I  have  now!" 


A    GRAVE   CRISIS.  45 

Indeed,  he  had  reached  the  height  of  his 
mountain  road,  and  the  steaming  Norcross  horse 
had  halted  there  for  rest. 

"Paul  shall  see,  as  I  do  from  this  spot,  these 
lofty  peaks  like  headlands  of  the  truth !  And 
my  son  shall  observe  how  they  guard  the  vales 
where  low  down  dwell  and  toil  the  people. 
Seeing  so  far,  he  shall  be  patient  and  glad. 
Paul  shall  feel  a  Breath  like  the  breath  of 
these  free  winds  that  seem  to  me  to  blow 
right  out  of  Heaven.  Oh,  how  they  wreathe 
the  snows  on  these  silver  mountains !  I  can 
discern  not  a  farmer's  roof;  not  a  human 
creature  to  share  this  breath  with  me.  It  is 
all  mine,  mine !  Fresh  from  God !  These 
winds,  unbound,  unchained,  give  me  new 
strength,  and,  as  it  were,  an  inspiration  which 
I  am  to  carry  to  the  factory  huts.  Paul,  my 
son,  they  are  a  symbol.  I  will  put  it  in  a  let-' 
ter  to  thee  I  will  tell  thee  how  my  heart 
exults,  at  times,  with  the  thoughts  of  our  great 
embassy.  I,  —  we,  would  not  exchange  our  call- 
ing with  the  very  immortals,  shut  in  Heaven  ! " 

And  the  old  man  lifted  up  his  voice  in 
song,  to  the  music  of  the  bells,  and  the  run- 
ners, and  the  diapason  winds  among  the  somber- 
sheeted  fir-trees.  A  hymn,  sung  till  the  frosty 


4-6  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

breath   that   bore  it  grew  faint  before  the   singer's 
heart   had   gotten   half    its   utterance. 

"The  love   of   Christ  their  hearts   constrains, 
And   strengthens   their  unwearied  hands." 

It  was  rapture !  He  clapped  his  hands  across 
his  breast  more  from  joy  than  for  warmth. 
He  grew  silent  only  to  begin  again,  calling 
mightily  a  favorite  couplet,  — 

"  High   on  his  everlasting  throne 

The   King  of   Saints   his  work  surveys." 

Not  new,  you  see,  but  old,  very  old  and  for- 
ever full  of  fire,  these  snatches  of  heroic  song. 
The  singer's  face  was  fire-lit  within  his  furs,  all 
hoar  with  his  frosty  minstrelsy. 

"Happy,   if  with   my  latest  breath 

I   may  but  speak   his   Name ! 
Preach  him  to  all,  and  gasp  in  death, 

« Behold,  behold   the   Lamb.'  " 

All  this  Pastor  Havens  subsequently  wrote  to 
Paul.  Wrote  it  ?  The  ecstasy  of  such  moments 
can  not  be  written. 

And  what  said  Paul,  bending  over  the  letter, 
in  distant  college  halls? 


IN  CONFLICT.  47 


III. 

IN   CONFLICT. 

U  T    CAN'T   say   I    envy   you." 

-*-  "  You  read  father's  letter?  A  dear,  noble 
letter  from  a  peerless  man.  Yet  I  have  kept  it 
a  month  from  you,  my  best  friend." 

The  first  speaker  was  Paul  Havens'  room-mate 
at  Amherst  College,  Stephen  Crane,  a  pale- 
faced,  quiet  student,  who  combined  great 
strength  of  mind  with  almost  a  womanly  gen- 
tleness ;  whose  whole  soul  was  fixed  in  the  pur- 
pose of  a  mission  in  the  heart  of  Africa ;  who 
had  written  Livingston's  Westminster  Abbey 
epitaph  in  the  flyleaf  of  his  pocket  Bible, — 
"  Who  will  help  to  heal  this  open  sore  of  the 
world?"  and  underneath,  had  accepted,  like  an 
answer,  his  mother's  writing  of  his  own  name, 
Stephen  Crane. 

Paul  Havens  loved  this  man,  as  he  deserved 
to  be  loved ;  he  trusted  him  as  he  deserved  to 
be  trusted.  And  Crane  had  learned  what  lofty 
meanings  love  and  trust  had  in  the  great  heart 
of  his  friend. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Why  do  you  decline  to  envy  me  ?  "  asked 
Havens,  stopping  in  his  heavy  stride  back  and 
forth. 

"  Because,"  replied  Crane,  pausing  in  his  light 
and  girl-like  walk  on  the  other  side  of  the 
round  table,  "because  —  look  me  in  the  face, 
Paul  —  you  have  been  a  wretched  man  ever  since 
you  made  that  engagement." 

"  Which  engagement  ?  with  her  ?  "  The  deep 
voice  sank  to  reverence,  and  the  fine  blue  eyes 
turned  gently  on  the  mantle  picture  of  Clara 
Norcross.  Havens  reached  out  his  hand  to  the 
picture  with  a  touch  like  a  caress. 

"  You  may  well  ask  which  engagement,  old 
fellow.  Heaven  bless  you  with  the  girl,  say 
I.  I  never  saw  her,  but  it  is  a  sweet 
face." 

"  A  sweet  face  and  a  good  !  "  sa-'d  Paul,  toss- 
ing back  his  wavy  hair,  and  turning  his  ruddy 
countenance.  "  Say  good,  Steve  !  For  Heaven's 
sake,  say  a  good  face  ;  one  to  be  trusted  ;  one 
which  would  not  be  a  false  beacon  in  this 
cloudy  world." 

"  Why,  yes,  Paul,  a  good  face.  She  will 
make  a  man  a  good  wife  —  and  a  rich  wife." 
This  last  in  a  low  and  deliberate  utterance, 
which  was  full  of  meaning. 


IN  CONFLICT.  49 


"  I  understand.  I  know,"  cried  the  other,  re- 
suming his  walk,  till  the  floor  shook  beneath 
him.  "  It  is  the  other  engagement.  I  am  to 
be  a  —  I  promised  to  be  a  spinner  of  silks. 
Well,  well ;  is  n't  that  a  clean  calling  ?  " 

"  You  need  n't  roar  at  me,  you  far  from  happy 
man  !  To  spin  silks  is  as  honorable  as  to 
preach  sermons — for  some  men." 

"  For  some  men !"  The  young  fellow  flushed 
till  his  cheeks  seemed  burning  with  the  fire 
from  within.  "And  why  not  for  me?  I'll  —  I'll 
spin  silks," — and  he  lifted  his  great  hand 
clenched,  — "  or  do  any  thing  else  that  a  man 
may  do,  for  her ! "  His  hand  struck  the  table 
so  that  the  lamp-light  leaped  up  as  if  in  pain. 

The  fragile  and  the  strong  confronted  each 
other.  The  slight  form  quivered,  and  its  hand 
had  instinctively  been  lifted  to  its  breast ;  all 
the  blood  for  a  moment  went  out  of  its  loving 
face,  and  then  with  a  great  surge  came  back 
in  almost  alarming  color.  Then  the  eyes  filled, 
and  the  voice  was  quite  in  a  sob,  as  it  said,  — 

"  Paul,  Paul !  No,  no  !  You  would  not  do  lit- 
erally any  thing  for  the  sake  even  of  the  woman 
you  loved  ? " 

"Dear  old  Steve,"  responded  Paul,  weighting 
each  word  with  the  deepest  fervor,  "  I  am  mak- 


50  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

ing  every  body  whom  I  love  most  miserable ! " 
He  put  both  hands  down  hard  on  the  table  and 
gazed  into  the  troubled  face  of  his  friend,  his 
own  face  handsome,  sad,  wild. 

"  Paul  Havens,  answer  me,"  resumed  his  friend. 
"  What  did  you  say  to  your  good  father  ? " 

"  God  help  me,"  groaned  Paul,  "  one  thing  to 
father." 

"And   another   thing   to   Clara?" 

"  And   nothing   to   my   mother  !  " 

"  And   what   to   your   God,    sir  ? " 

"And  a  long  assenting  talk  with  Mr.  Nor- 
cross  !  Kind  heaven,  where  am  I  ?  I  seem  to 
be  losing  my  providential  way.  Oh !  the  distress 
of  it,  dear  Steve !  What  is  my  way  out  ? "  And 
he  began  again  his  heavy  strides  across  the  lit- 
tle dormitory. 

The  frail  man,  halting  still  by  the  table,  his 
tender  glances  following  his  friend,  seemed  like 
a  lion's  keeper,  with  love  as  the  chain.  He 
said,  "  You  are  a  Christian,  Paul.  Obey  God ! " 

"  I  do  n't  know  if  I  am.  What  is  a  Christian 
in  these  days  ?  The  air  is  full  of  so  many  isms 
that " 

"  Oh,  my  brother ! "  It  was  a  veritable  cry 
of  anguish.  "  Would  you  escape  that  way  out  ? " 

"  I   know   what   you   mean   again,"   was   the  an- 


IN  CONFLICT  51 


swer,  and  the  speaker  addressed  the  floor  beneath 
his  pacing  feet.  "Bred  as  I  have  been,  in  a 
parsonage ;  zealous  as  I  have  been  in  this  col- 
lege through  all  my  course  for  our  class  prayer- 
meetings  and  all  high-toned  fidelity  to  the  old 
faith ;  a  debater,  a  recognized  champion  for 
orthodoxy  in  the  club ;  that  I,  whom  many  of 
you  have  looked  to  as  a  teacher,  at  whose 
Christian  character  no  man,  I  have  hoped,  could 
sneer,  not  of  the  strong  —  oh,  the  conceit  of 
it !  —  should  turn  my  face  up  with  a  doubt  writ- 
ten on  it !  And  yet,"  pronouncing  the  words 
very  slowly  and  almost  fiercely,  "I  do!"  He 
suited  the  action  to  the  words,  his  broad  chest 
thown  out,  and  his  hands  locked  behind  his 
back,  confronting  Crane. 

"Doubt  what,  Paul?  For  instance — that  your 
own  good  father  is  an  honest  man  ? "  Quickly 
the  slight  form  almost  wound  itself  like  a  vine 
about  this  oak.  Clinging  to  his  friend's  shoulder 
and  speaking  in  a  now  uncontrolled  gush  of 
tears,  young  Crane  went  on :  "  You  can  not 
doubt  that  your  father  has  been  serving  a  real 
God,  all  these  years ;  can  not  doubt  that  a  liv- 
ing Christ  has  ever  be.en  walking  just  before 
him  in  his  life  of  sacrificial  devotion  to  the 
Christian  ministry;  can  not  believe  that  he,  and 


52  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


I,  and  all  the  hosts  of  them,  have  been,  shall 
be,  following  a  myth  in  obeying  this  calling, 
leading  Voice?"  And  then,  in  sobs,  this  broth- 
er's voice  was  for  a  moment  hushed  upon  that 
shoulder. 

The  shoulder  did  not  resent.  It  simply  re- 
plied, "My  father?  That  noble,  that  heroic, 
that  almost  adorable  man  ?  I  say,  Crane,  it  is 
the  very  thought  of  what  he  has  suffered  that 
almost  sours  me.  You  were  not  born  and  bred 
in  a  parsonage ;  you  do  not  know  the  mean  in- 
sensibility of  many  to  kindness ;  the  dull  yawn- 
ing over  truths  uttered  from  the  very  heart ; 
nor  the  rude  impertinence  with  family  affairs  that 
stings  a  delicate  nature  which  honest  blows 
could  not  dismay.  You  do  not  know  the  chagrin 
of  pinching  want  repaying  labors  and  rewarding 
talents  capable  of  earning  luxury  —  but  you  will 
know ;  you  will  hear  men  freely  express  the 
opinion  that  the  ministry  is  the  lap  of  luxury ; 
that  it  is,  almost  universally,  about  the  only  vo- 
cation in  which  its  followers  could  get  a  decent 
living.  Ah,  my  father !  Such  a  man !  Do  not 
think  that  he  has  ever  answered  back  to  such 
of  the  people  as  complain !  Not  a  word,  the 
silent  hero !  But  I  have  rebuked  them  for  him, 
more  than  once." 


IN  CONFLICT.  53 


"  But,  Paul  Havens,"  continued  the  brotherly 
face  now  uplifted,  "  that  is  not  my  question. 
You  do  not  deny  your  Lord.  You  have  told 
me  of  that  boyhood's  hour  when  you  felt  that 
you,  too,  were  forgiven;  that  hour " 

"Hush!"  The  shoulder  shook  now;  it  grew 
soft  as  a  pillow.  Unutterable  memories  were  at 
work  within.  The  vision  all  came  in  a  mo- 
ment—  that  boyhood's  hour,  that  scene  in  his 
father's  study,  when  the  greatest  of  all  ques- 
tions had  been  asked  of  his  soul,  as,  sooner  or 
later,  it  is  asked  of  all  souls  —  that  nameless 
question  of  the  soul's  duty  unto  God.  There  is 
no  single  theological  term  that  does  not  cramp 
it ;  therefore,  let  us  use  not  one  of  them.  He 
reviewed  it  all  —  the  dusk  of  evening,  and  the 
only  light  the  embers  in  the  grate.  The  long, 
long  conference  begun  with  the  sun  shining  in 
upon  the  preacher  and  his  troubled  son ;  the 
open  Bible  which  they  had  been  turning,  leaf 
by  leaf;  the  overthrow  of  doubts  as  if  a  for- 
tressed  city  had  been  taken  ;  and  then,  at  last, 
the  two  upon  their  knees,  the  preacher  and  "his' 
little  boy"  of  sixteen  years,  with  those  prayers 
in  the  twilight,  and  the  peace  in  "the  great 
light "  which  was  neither  from  candle  nor  sun ! 

Paul    Havens   threw   his   arm   about    his   friend; 


54  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


he  pressed  his  friend's  head  to  his  own  breast 
and  stroked  its  locks  softly,  saying  nothing.  But 
his  hot  cheeks  felt  a  dew  that  cooled  them. 

After  a  little,  as  they  had  become  seated,  the 
chapel  clock,  high  up  in  its  great  tower,  striking 
out  the  hour  of  midnight,  started  them  both,  the 
one  from  his  reveries,  the  other  from  his  prayers. 

"But  all  this  does  not  settle  my  questions," 
resumed  Paul,  "  I  am  not  fit  to  be  a  minister ! " 

"It  is  not  mine  to  speak  of  your  heart-fitness, 
my  dear  fellow,"  promptly  answered  Crane.  "  I 
foresee  that  you  have  a  long  road,  and  a  hard, 
to  traverse  before  you  settle  that  problem  of 
heart-fitness." 

"  Yes,  heart-fitness ;  and  what  does  the  world 
of  our  future  auditors,  asleep  in  these  village-beds, 
just  now,  or  just  come  from  the  theatres,  bound 
for  city-beds,  what  do  they  know  of  the  heart- 
agony  by  which  ministers  are  made  ?  Not  one  in 
ten  thousand  in  the  churches,  good  deacons,  pious 
matrons,  and  joyous  youth,  could  understand  my 
frame  of  mind.  If  they  should  ever  come  to 
know  it,  you  may  be  sure  I  should  never  get  a 
call  to  a  pastorate.  No,  not  men  of  my  stamp, 
but  of  yours,  are  cut  out,  as  they  term  it,  for 
pulpits." 

"Still,  I  say,"  with  the  emphasis  of  undisturbed 


IN  CONFLICT.  55 


conviction  on  the  pronoun,  "  that  a  giant  like  you 
can  live  where  I  shall  break,  and  then  go  up 
higher  to  my  rest.  You  not  fitted  ?  You,  who 
draw  men  after  you ;  who  win  all  men's  love 
and  provoke  no  man's  hate  but  the  mean  man's ; 
you,  who  surpass  us  all  in  brilliancy  of  mental 
powers ;  you,  a  born  orator,  which  is  to  you,  I 
do  believe,  like  a  birth-mark,  —  for  they  say  there 
is  such  a  thing ;  and  a  pastor's  wife  is  forever 
preaching  for  him  as  she  listens  to  him  with 
her  very  heart  in  her  throat,  —  that  you  are 
not  fitted,  if  only  your  heart  was  right?" 

"  Steve,  let  me  set  you  right  in  one  respect," 
responded  Paul.  "I  have  accused  myself  too 
severely.  I  have  not  intentionally  compromised 
my  manhood.  If  I  seem  to  myself  to  have  taken 
up  contradictory  vows,  in  speaking  with  father, 
Clara,  Mrs.  Norcross,  and  —  and,  my  God,  it  is, 
I  do  solemnly  now  assert,  only  a  seeming.  I 
have  thought  myself  decided  in  each  instance, 
for  the  moment.  Oh,  pitiful  heavens !  That  is 
my  problem,  returned  to  me  again.  What  shall 
I  do?" 

"  I  am  thoroughly  worn  out  for  to-night, 
Paul,"  was  Crane's  reply,  as  he  chafed  his  fore- 
head. "  I  must  go  to  bed.  I  am  not  strong  like 
you.  But  you  will  yet  see  the  light." 


56  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Steve,  forgive  me.  Go  to  bed.  I  '11  go  walk 
out  on  the  campus.  The  moon  is  shining  very 
clear.  Good  night ;  God  bless  you.  I  hope  you 
may  be  asleep  when  I  come  in." 

Paul  thrust  back  into  his  pocket  a  letter  from 
Clara  Norcross,  part  of  which  he  had  intended 
to  bring  before  his  monitor,  and  putting  on  his 
coat  went  softly  out  of  the  room. 

Sleep,  which  this  absolutely  perfect  physical 
frame  always  trifled  with,  was  now  as  powerless 
over  him  as  over  one  of  the  thousand  peeping 
stars  in  the  winter  sky.  Havens  pulled  out  the 
letter  from  Clara.  He  read  it  again,  by  light 
of  the  full  moon.  It  was  a  pretty  girlish  invi- 
tation to  join  her  father  and  herself  for  a  week's 
holiday  in  Boston. 

That  is,  the  Boston  rendezvous  was  the  ex- 
cuse for  this  particular  letter,  —  the  third  within 
a  week,  and  one  extra ;  but  Boston  was  frilled 
and  plaited  all  about  with  the  graceful  and 
becoming  utterances  of  a  bright  girl's  affection, 
with  here  and  there  a  brilliant  flash  of  com- 
ment on  village  things,  the  world  in  general, 
and  the  reader  in  particular.  Havens  had 
hardly  read  its  first  page,  standing  there  in  the 
broad,  deserted  hall,  using  both  moonbeams  and 
lamp-light  from  the  smoky,  ancient  burner, 


IN  CO  AFFLICT.  57 


which  some  readers  will  remember,  before  his 
handsome  features  began  to  relax  their  iron 
lines.  He  soon  smiled  like  one  resting  after 
toil.  A  letter  can  do  that  for  a  man.  A  letter 
is  often  better  than  bed  or  bread. 

"  To  introduce  me  to  our  city  folks  ? "  He 
talked  to  the  letter  very  softly,  yet  aloud. 
"That  means  to  show  off  her  lover,  the  witch! 
She  is  like  my  mother  and  sisters,  —  not  ashamed 
of  my  broad  shoulders,  if  I  am  no  society  man." 

Being  a  young  man,  he  confessed  to  the  usual 
physical  prowess  and  its  accompanying  pleasant 
self-consciousness.  He  contemptuously  faced  the 
keen  wind  that  howled  through  the  college 
grounds  and  buffeted  with  his  open  coat  in  the 
doorway.  Ah,  those  winds  that  "went  through 
college,"  from  front  to  back  doors ! 

"I  must  be  prepared  to  sing,  like  a  sopho- 
more, to  her  playing  a  college  song  or  two,"  he 
went  on.  "  Certainly,  you  charmer !  And  there 
will  be  evenings  out  enough,  and  dancing  to 
see.  Being  engaged,  as  we  are,  it  is  no  blush- 
ing matter  if  my  little  almost-wife —  heaven  bless 
the  child  —  suggests  that  I  do  not  crush  my 
dress-suit  into  a  bag,  but  bring  a  trunk ! " 

He  laughed  aloud,  with  the  male  delight  of 
being  looked  after  in  such  conjugal  minuteness, 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


It  is  doubtless  well-nigh  the  most  delightful  sen- 
sation in  the  world, — the  sensation  of  being 
cared  for,  like  a  married  man,  which  an  engaged 
young  fellow  receives  at  first  like  a  shock, 
every  now  and  then,  from  the  demure,  young 
thing,  —  his  affianced.  To  her,  however,  it  comes 
natural  enough,  no  doubt. 

He  took  time  to  appropriate  this.  He  watched 
the  changeful  silhouettes  of  aged  branches  against 
the  face  of  the  moon,  and  saw  her  face,  repeat- 
edly, in  those  changeful  lines.  He  followed  the 
truant  winds,  as  they  flew  far  out  over  the 
sleeping  village  and  lost  themselves  on  the  icy 
surface  of  the  distant  river.  He  stared  at  Mount 
Tom  and  Mount  Holyoke,  grim  watchers,  who 
lay  half  dozing  in  the  argent  light.  Then  his 
eye  was  caught  by  a  long  silver  wreath  of  steam 
that  reposed  above  the  body  of  a  passing  mid- 
night train.  The  train,  bound  city-ward,  recalled 
him  to  the  letter  and  its  errand. 

"  Her  cousins  will  be  curious  enough,  no  doubt, 
she  says,  as  to  the  country  minister's  son. 
Clara,  have  a  care  what  you  say ! "  But  his 
scrutiny  between  the  lines  reassured  him,  as  it 
had  a  dozen  times  before,  the  ambitious  fellow ! 
or  was  it  the  honor-thy-father-and-mother  that 
was  in  him  ?  Both,  thank  heaven !  —  a  lofty 


IN  CONFLICT.  59 


self-respect,  an  almost  reverent  regard  for  his 
sire. 

The  letter:  "A  week  of  decided  rest  for  my 
book-worm ;  from  the  cloisters  to  the  drawing 
room." 

Paul:  "That's  sensible!  But  in  my  frame  of 
mind,  will  it  help  me  ?  Still,  problems  decided 
in  a  cloister  are  never  wisely  decided.  I  have 
never  seen  much  of  this  wealthy  society  of  the 
city  world,  where  my  dear  girl  is  so  familiar." 

The  letter:  "The  theatre  and  the  opera  sea- 
son will  be  at  full  height,  my  student." 

Paid:  "  O  tempora,  O  mores !  The  deacon's 
daughter !  And  all  her  city  friends  are  orthodox 
church  members,  she  has  told  me.  This  is  New 
England  Puritanism,  in  the  year  18 — .  But  of 
course,  I  forget:  every  body  might  go  to  the 
opera, — I'll  stop  at  the  opera,  —  every  body  — 
except  the  preacher.  How  innocent  she  is 
about  all  this.  Yet,  I  do  know  that  she  is  the 
very  soul  of  Yankee  prudence  and  propriety. 
And  her  piety  ?  Why,  ask  all  the  poor  of 
her  father's  village.  This  theatre  and  opera 
business — it  is  a  question  of  atmospheres,  per- 
haps. There  is  one  atmosphere  in  the  city 
home,  and  another  in  the  New  England  country 
parsonage.  I  have  breathed  only  one.  I  will  go 


60  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

down  with  her  and  breathe  the  other  for  a  week. 
I  am  not  a  minister  yet,  at  any  rate.  I  am  a 
simple  senior — who  —  has — heard  —  a  Voice!" 

He  spoke  with  an  upturned  face,  as  if  some 
window  in  the  heavens  might  almost  have  been 
expected  to  open  with  rebuke,  or  invitation.  He 
stood  long  silent,  deeply  stirred  again.  Then  he 
thrust  the  letter  in  his  bosom  and  stalked  out 
into  the  solitude  that  lay  on  college  hill. 
Whither  he  walked  he  could  not  tell.  What 
were  his  thoughts  could  not  be  written.  Few, 
even  in  the  ministry,  could  understand  them  if 
written.  His  friend,  Stephen  Crane,  for  instance, 
could  not.  Here  and  there  a  clergyman  who 
could ;  and  these  rare  ones  are  not  the  least 
among  the  disciples  in  the  world's  modern  pulpits. 

When  he  returned  at  length,  once  more  under 
the  smoking  hall  lamp,  he  read  from  the  letter: — • 

The  letter:  "And  now,  dear  Paul,  upon  my 
knees,  before  I  sleep,  I  put  my  wishes  for  you 
into  shape  of  prayers.  Wishes  are  nothing ; 
prayer  is  every  thing.  May  our  dear  Saviour 
make  you  more  and  more  just  like  himself.  Our 
Jesus,  Paul,  for  I  never  pray  to  him  but  I  re- 
member how  your  own  frank  words,  even  in  our 
lovers'  tryst,  first  led  me  to  adore  him.  Good- 
night" 


IN  CONFLICT.  6 1 


He  kissed  the  letter,  and  went  up  to  a 
troubled  sleep,  after  hours  of  a  whirlwind  not 
yet  blown  out  of  his  sky. 

Of  course  he  went  to  Boston.  It  was  three 
days  later  only,  that  he  presented  himself  at  the 
junction,  and  soon  found  the  drawing-room  car 
which  had  just  brought  his  heart  from  the  North. 

"  Right  this  way,  my  boy,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Nor- 
cross  from  the  platform,  with  actually  some  thing 
like  a  warm  welcome.  In  fact,  the  business-hard- 
ened little  man,  with  a  great  head,  was  de- 
cidedly proud  of  the  fine-looking  young  fellow, 
physically  in  such  contrast  with  himself.  With 
cordial  courtesy,  and  a  good  humor  that  always 
made  his  coming  like  a  bracing  breeze,  Havens 
drew  himself  up  on  the  step,  and  together  they 
entered  the  apartment. 

"  You  are  the  best  of  boys,"  she  said,  having 
given  his  lips  as  good  as  they  sent,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  father's  presence.  "  I  was  afraid 
those  horrid  senior  studies  would  be  in  your 
way."  Then  she  nestled  down  into  her  becom- 
ing wraps,  with  luxurious  comfort,  and  began  to 
purr  at  him. 

Such  delightful  little  confidences,  with  now 
and  then  a  seriousness  as  became  a  sensible 
girl,  but  mostly  pretty  nothings  with  which  we 


62  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


busy  our  tongues  when  our  eyes  wish  to  be  free 
to  admire  one  whom  we  hold  dear.  While  the 
wheels  were  rolling  and  her  tongue  was  running, 
she  was  taking  in  every  thing  about  him,  from 
his  good  clothes,  to  his  temper  and  mood.  She 
decided  that  he  was  happy  to  be  with  her. 
That  was  enough. 

While  the  wheels  pounded  along  the  ice-locked 
earth,  while  the  garlands  of  steam  were  being 
looped  and  trailed  across  the  wintery  fields, 
while  the  luxury  within  wrought  frost-work  air- 
castles  on  the  window  panes,  Paul  Havens,  the 
poor-born  preacher's  son,  was  actually  thrilling 
with  the  sense  of  the  affluent  hour.  It  was  not 
the  vulgar  love  of  money,  but  the  high-bred 
consciousness  of  plenty.  Who  can  describe  it 
but  the  sensitive  soul  which  has  all  its  life  felt 
the  rasping  need  of  close  economy. 

It  was  not  that  the  parsonage  life  had  ever 
felt  a  pinch  of  want.  Not  so,  thank  thrift ! 
There  was  always  a  sweet  loaf  and  always  a 
tasty  garment.  In  the  Norcross  home,  however, 
an  abundant  plenty.  Paul  never  entered  it  but 
he  seemed  to  encounter  that  unfamiliar  atmos- 
phere of  inexhaustable  plenty.  He  felt  it  now, 
in  Clara's  presence.  Every  want  can  be  supplied. 
No  more  a  counting  of  costs,  a  turning  or  a 


IN  CONFLICT  63 


twisting  for  honesty.  With  this  woman's  hand 
in  his,  it  was  probable  that  never  again  while 
he  lived  need  he  know  what  it  cost  to  subsist 
a  week,  a  term  or  ,  a  year.  All  the  refined 
tastes  of  a  cultured  gentleman  could  be  pursued 
to  gratification.  There  need  be,  moreover,  no 
limit  to  the  best  and  truest  impulses  of  his 
generous  heart. 

"  How  strange  it  seems  at  times,  Clara,"  he 
said,  "  that  you,  and  all  this,  have  come  to  me. 
Think  how  much  more  my  father  deserves  it." 

"Dear  pastor  Havens,"  she  responded  tenderly. 
"  But  then,  ministers  have  their  own  reward,  I 
suppose." 

Paul  turned  a  startled  look  at  her ;  but  that 
she  was  innocent  he  saw  in  a  moment.  Yet 
the  arrow  stuck  for  almost  all  the  rest  of  the 
way.  He  managed,  however,  to  conceal  it. 

Then  she  spared  him  for  a  while  to  her 
father,  who  had  gone  into  the  smoking-room ; 
meanwhile  she  sat  in  perfect  happiness,  realizing 
her  delight  in  him  all  the  more  that  he  was 
out  of  sight  yet  within  call.  When  the  gentle- 
men returned  at  length,  her  joy  grew  stronger; 
yet  she  still  sat  dreaming,  gazing  out  of  dark- 
ling windows,  on  the  long,  low  flashes  of  the 
scattered  street-lamps'  fire. 


64  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"We  are  nearly  at  our  journey's  end,  Clara," 
said  Paul,  rousing  her. 

"  Dear  old  Boston  town,"  she  replied,  still 
dreaming,  yet  surrendering  her  hand.  "You 
know  it  well,  Paul?" 

"  Yes,    its   streets,    its   walls,    its   libraries." 

"But  not  its  homes,  very  well,  you  monk. 
You  have  managed  to  see  many  cities,  in  your 
philosopher  way  ? " 

"Yes,  Clara,  from  here  to  San  Francisco,  when 
I  need  vacations,  in  the  employ  of  the  Govern- 
ment Board  of  Civil  Engineers,  you  know." 

"And  Paul,  say  ;  there  is  nothing  like  dear, 
delightful  Boston,  is  there  ?  Papa,  see  here." 
He  put  a  third  head  in  the  group.  "  Why  can't 
we,  I  mean  Paul  and  I,  manage  to  have  a  Boston 
house  for  the  winters,  as  well  as  the  nice,  coun- 
try home  up  where  his  factories  will  be?  I 
mean  after  we  return  from  France,  of  course." 
So  that  was  set  in  motion. 

Meanwhile  the  train  had  halted,  and  there 
was  a  white- whiskered,  courtly  little  gentleman 
with  a  by-no-means  plain-faced,  but  rather  courtly 
girl  upon  his  arm,  both  of  whom  were  greeting 
them  cordially  and  handing  them  into  the  carriage. 

"  Why,  Uncle,"  cried  Clara,  after  the  introduc- 
tions, which  were  hard  to  manage  in  the  midst  of 


IN  CONFLICT.  65 


the  hearty  and  familiar  family  salutations,  and 
Yankee  questions,  "Uncle,  you  did  not  know  I 
was  to  bring  Mr.  Havens  along?" 

"  Oh,  yes  I  did,  or  rather  Puss,  here,  told  me. 
1  '11  not  crowd  you.  My  own  coupe"  is  here  also. 
By  the  way,"  and  he  put  his  mouth  to  her  ear, 
with  a  little  pat  on  her  shoulder,  "  What  a  splen- 
did looking  fellow  he  is !  I  say  that ;  but  Puss, 
here,  well  you  know  your  cousin  has  high  notions. 
Good  heart  has  Puss.  Let  her  read  him  as  she 
will,  and  never  you  mind.  He's  fine." 

"  What  is  all  this  privacy,  Bill  ?  "  inquired  the 
other  Mr  Norcross.  "  We  are  hungry." 

And  away  went  the  vehicles,  chasing  each  other 
through  the  cow-paths  of  the  old  into  the  straight 
streets,  at  length,  of  the  new  Boston. 

"  Ah,  the  luxury  of  it :  this  senior  ease  and 
leisure,"  thought  Paul,  giving  his  hair  a  brush 
in  the  elegant  chamber  assigned  him  by  the 
host  in,  person,  and  contriving  somehow  to  await 
Clara's  emergence  from  the  door  across  the  hall. 
"  This  being  granted  leave  of  absence  on  your 
own  recognizance,  and  few  questions  asked  by 
the  Prex !  This  being  treated  as  a  man  grown 
at  last,  and  not  as  a  boy  at  school !  And  to 
be  here  in  this  stimulating  city,  with  a  week  of 
it,  the  guest  of  congenial  people ;  and  so  cor- 


66  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

dially  received  by  them,  and  with  her  —  if  only 
one's  mind  were  at  rest ! " 

"  The  young  lady  says,  sir,  will  you  wait  for 
her  before  going  down  to  the  library,"  said  the 
black  porter,  appearing  at  Paul's  door,  ajar  with 
his  rap.  "  And  a  letter  for  you,  sir," 

"Certainly."  And  while  he  tore  open  his  let- 
ter, he  finished  his  soliloquy.  "  Mind  at  ease, 
and  in  the  senior  year  ?  What  senior  year  ever 
made  good  its  early  promises  of  delightful  ease 
and  calm  vacations  ?  A  man  ?  Yes,  indeed,  or 
on  the  the  threshold  of  it,  and  you  realize  the 
stern  fact  of  it  so  sturdy!  Doubtless,  that  is 
the  very  purpose  of  the  vacations, — that  a  fel- 
low may  try  his  sail  down  close  to  the  outer 
bar  and  look  over  at  the  open  sea.  That  is, 
with  men  who  have  a  purpose  in  life ;  with  all 
but  the  rich  fellows,  to  whom  college  is  but  a 
bouquet  in  the  button-hole.  It  is  not  strange, 
I  suppose,  that  I  am  inclined  to  be  grave  as 
a  judge ;  and  then,  too,  that  Voice !  But  yet," 
with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  half  desperately, 
"here's  for  a  week  of  brightness.  Ah!" 

He  had  been  reading  Stephen  Crane's  kind 
letter  and  not  regarding  what  he  read  till  sud- 
denly he  came  across  this:  — 

The    letter'.     "I     should     have     had     my     wits 


IN  CONFLICT.  67 


about  me  and  recognized  the  name  of  your 
host,  Brother  William  Norcross.  He  is  a  part- 
ner in  your  sick  man's  Boston  business,  and 
very  wealthy,  all  of  which  you  know  I  believe ; 
but,  better  far  than  that,  as  perhaps  you  do  not 
know,  he  is  an  active  friend  of  foreign  missions, 
the  New  England  director  in  the  Home  Board ; 
and  poor,  little  I  have  even  been  admitted  to  a 
conference  with  him  in  which  I  tried  to  enlist 
his  sympathy  in  behalf  of  heroic  Livingston's 
land.  I  understand  him  to  be  a  very  influential 
church  man.  I  do  not  feel  so  anxious  about 
you,  now  that  I  recall  these  facts." 

"For  me?"  asked  Clara,  all  radiant  as  she 
approached  at  this  moment,  and  Paul  handed 
her  the  letter  pointing  to  the  above  passage. 
"  Yes,  that 's  Uncle  William  to  perfection,"  she 
continued  as  she  read.  Then  clinging  to  his 
arm  as  they  slowly  descended  the  noble  stairs, 
to  which  she  called  attention  by  the  way,  re- 
marking, — 

"Isn't  this  a  perfectly,  lovely  house?" 
"  Magnificent ! "  And  he  detained  her  at  the 
turn  of  the  flight  before  a  Bierstadt,  on  whose 
grand  mountains  the  most  glorious  of  lights 
was  shed  from  a  rose  window,  artificially  illu 
minated  at  night. 


68  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  Uncle  William  is  full 
of  church  affairs.  I  suppose  he  would  have 
liked  you  full  as  well,  Paul,  though  he  does 
indeed  admire  you  as  it  is,  you  must  know,  if 
you  had  been  a  young  minister." 

Paul  flushed  again.  But,  the  innocent,  she 
meant  no  more  now  than  she  did  by  a  similar 
reference  on  the  train.  She  went  on  chattering 
while  he  seemed  to  be  looking  very  critically  at 
the  picture,  "This  house  is  a  very  home  to 
ministers.  All  of  them  know  uncle,  you  may 
be  sure.  And  of  course,  though  he  really  can 
not  in  fact,  yet  he  seems  to  know  all  of  them. 
No  doubt  we  shall  find  one  or  two  missionaries,  or 
some  other  of  the  dear  souls,  I  mean  the 
clergymen,  in  the  library.  Come,  we  must  go 
down  there." 

"  Yes,  Clara.  But  you  know  I  never  met 
any  of  them,  and  it  is  not  yet  late  ;  see,  here 's 
a  fine  De  Hass.  Ah,  the  master  ! "  They  were 
at  the  next  turn  of  the  marbles.  "  Your 
cousin,  now." 

"  Puss  ?  Why  Puss  is  the  greatest  minister's 
girl  in  the  world  !  I  mean  that  that  child " 

"Child?'!   broke   in    Paul   with   a   smile. 

"To  be  sure;  she  is  just  twenty-nine.  I 
know,"  laughed  Clara.  "But  as  I  was  saying, 


IN  CONFLICT.  69 


my  cousin  Fidie,  otherwise  Fidelia,  otherwise  Puss 
—  and  that 's  nearest  right,  for  she  is  the  slyest, 
most  cat-like  good  girl,"  with  sincere  emphasis 
on  the  good,  "that  you  ever  met  —  well  she  will 
marry  a  clergyman,  provided," — very  strong 
emphasis  on  provided,  with  a  nod  of  the  pretty 
head, — "she  ever  finds  one  to  her  mind." 

"That   is?" 

"That  is,  very,  very  manly,  pious,  and  most 
exceedingly  intellectual,  orthodox  to  a  tittle,  as 
uncle  says ;  one  who  will  be  eminent  in  the 
profession ;  but,  most  of  all,  submissive  to  her. 
See?" 

"  Quick !  A  turn  down  into  the  conservatory 
for  a  moment.  The  others  ?  " 

"Then  there  is  Aunt  Matilda,  the  sweetest, 
dearest  mother  in  the  world ;  mother  to  us  all, 
and  especially  to  all  the  clergymen  who  come  here; 
generally  has  one,  an  invalid,  in  the  house,  that 
he  may  be  near  some  city  physician  eminent  in 
throat  practice.  But  she  is  a  lovely  woman. 
She  dresses  plainly  but  richly,  and  always 
reminds  me  of  what  a  queen  in  the  mourning 
should  be ;  though  for  that  matter,  she  always 
wears  the  loveliest  smile." 

"There  are  two  others,  I  've  heard  you  speak 
of?" 


7°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"Yes,  cousin  Minnie:  she's  eighteen,  just  two 
years  behind  me.  She 's  a  lovely  girl,  but  a 
fly-away.  She  has  a  class,  though,  in  Puss's 
Mission  School,  down  at  North  End.  They  go 
in  the  family  carriage,  in  fine  style  every  Sab- 
bath afternoon.  Puss  is  superintendent." 

"And   the   only   son?" 

"That's  Andrew.  Named  after  the  great  gov- 
ernor, though  before  he  was  governor,  when  he 
was  simply  'a  splendid  type  of  a  man,'  as  papa 
and  uncle  always  say,  and  when  they  only  knew 
that  he  would  sometime  be  governor.  The  three 
gentlemen  were  fast  business  friends." 

"You  chatterer,"  whispered  Paul  impatiently, 
"we  must  go  in.  Tell  me  a  word  of  Andrew." 

"  Here  he  comes  down  the  hall,"  said  she 
suddenly  looking  past  a  bower  of  exotics.  Ad- 
vancing with  a  smartly  ringing  heel,  a  wholesome- 
faced  young  gentleman  now  appeared  among  the 
shrubbery.  "  He 's  all  common  sense  and  busi- 
ness; in  the  Boston  house;  your  partner." 

And  with  that  word  she  introduced  the  two 
young  men ;  immediately  following  which  the 
party  joined  the  family  in  the  library. 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  7 1 


IV. 

ON    THE    AVENUE. 

U  T  ET  'S  leave  that  till  morning,  Lem,"  Mr. 
•*— '  William  Norcross  was  saying,  as  the 
young  people  entered. 

The  two  brothers  were  standing  by  the  center 
table,  and  had  been  conversing  on  the  business 
of  the  house.  The  younger,  Clara's  father,  with 
ever  a  severe  and  gravea  face,  brown-haired, 
complexion  brown,  eyes  keen,  the  abler  man,  or, 
at  least,  the  most  devoted  business-zealot  of  the 
two — for  the  other  was  no  slave — and  the  origi- 
nator of  the  vast  manufacturing  interests  which 
they  now  owned  together.  The  elder,  of  pre- 
cisely the  same  stature  and  form,  twin-like  in- 
deed, but  otherwise  in  the  utmost  contrast. 

"  Business  to-morrow,  Lem,"  said  the  latter. 
His  handsome  white  hair  and  benignant  eyes, 
his  ruddy  hues  of  cheerful  content  and  health, 
his  refined  and  courtly  bearing,  his  delightful 
cordiality,  which  sat  upon  him  always,  whether 
he  spoke  in  his  laughing  tones  with  a  frequent 
flash  of  wit,  or  whether  he  was  silent  in  thought, 


72  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

as  he  read  you,  taking  your  hand ;  these  were 
the  things  in  contrast  with  the  other  man. 

"  We  suppose  all  these  young  people  are  ac- 
quainted," the  host  continued.  "  Mother,  you 
have  met  Mr.  Havens,  Pastor  Havens'  son,  that 
glorious  man  up  in  the  country.  This  is  my 
pastor,  Brother  Crestlake,  who  has  dropped  in 
on  us  to  dine " ;  this  gentleman  arose  and  took 
Paul  by  the  hand,  the  host  still  retaining  the 
floor,  and  continuing,  "  Now,  we  will  have  our 
usual  evening  prayer.  I  put  it  before  the  even- 
ing meal,  Lem,  when  I  find  it  catches  the  chil- 
dren, and  every  body  else.  In  the  morning,  it 's 
hurry  off  to  business,  each  at  different  hours. 
After  dinner,  it 's  society,  meetings,  the  opera, 
and  the  like.  I  catch  'em  all  at  this  hour." 
Meanwhile,  he  had  himself  taken  up  the  large 
Bible,  as  the  leader  —  the  proper  thing  for  the 
host  always  —  while  winsome  Minnie,  being 
youngest,  and  therefore  servant  of  these  holy 
offices,  passed  to  each  person  a  copy  of  the 
Testament  and  Psalms.  "Where  do  you  put  it, 
Lem,"  the  host  asked,  turning  the  leaves  for 
the  place. 

"  In  France ! "  At  which  everybody  shouted. 
Then  the  office-worm,  looking  suddenly  up, 
added,  "Eh?" 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  73 

"Drop  business,  brother,"  said  Mr.  William. 
"It  is  prayer-time." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  dear  papa,"  exclaimed  Clara,  who 
reddened  both  in  sympathy  and  confusion  on  her 
father's  account ;  for  she  too  well  knew  that  his 
abstracted  answer  had  saved  him  a  more  embarass- 
ing  if  an  accurate  answer  as  to  when  they  had 
family  devotions  in  the  Crosston  mansion.  In  fact, 
he  put  it,  this  family  prayer,  fifteen  years  ago, 
out  of  the  house,  not  intending,  but  being  too 
busy  to  give  it  place. 

A  hush  fell  on  the  brilliant  room,  as  humble 
now  and  reverent  a  calm  as  Paul  had  ever  seen 
the  parsonage  study  wear.  The  oil  lamp  and  the 
crystal  chandelier  may  both  light  up  the  same 
inspiring  page.  Across  the  tufted  floors  the  house- 
hold servants  stole  to  take  their  seats,  with  folded, 
aproned  arms  and  restful,  grateful  looks,  forget- 
ting, for  the  moment,  in  this  temple  of  the  home, 
God's  first  on  earth,  the  differences  which  man's 
later  earthly  shrines  have  made.  The  gilded  vol- 
umes on  their  shelves  about  seemed  worshipful  on- 
lookers, as  this  pious  house  bent  each  above  the 
Only  Book.  Now  silver  voice  of  maiden  fair,  now 
golden  tones  of  mother,  and  now  the  deeper  iron 
tones  of  the  men,  as  onward  ran  the  story  of  the 
dear  Lord's  loving  look  bent  on  the  rich  young  man. 


74  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

A  chapter  read  "  in  course,"  and  yet  so  apt, 
though  for  a  little  Paul  but  lightly  heeded  it. 
His  mind  was  full  of  the  delightful  calm.  He 
took  his  turn  next  after  Clara's  verse,  it  chanced, 
but  meanwhile  smelled  the  perfume  of  the  flowers 
that  came  in  all  about  them,  listened  to  the  tinkle 
of  the  fountain  just  through  the  doors  amid  the 
flowers,  and  thought  upon  the  splendid  fittings 
of  the  room  in  which  a  Christian  rich  man  found 
his  sweetest  rest  at  night,  an  hour  of  household 
prayer. 

Still  Paul  read,  unheeding,  and  yet  heeding ; 
as  to  the  ear  a  welcome  strain  of  music  some- 
times comes,  —  inspiring,  hallowing,  heard,  and  not 
heard,  for  it  starts  the  soul  on  wings  that  take 
one  far  away.  Paul  thought  of  home;  his  home 
as  pure  as  this,  and  like  it,  in  this  religious 
joy ;  and  there  was  such  a  sense  of  gratitude 
for  his  own  Christian  rearing.  In  all  the  truest 
culture  he  had  shared  with  these,  the  culture 
that  these  valued  most  was  his,  the  faith  and 
practice  of  a  Christian.  Not  one  was  here  who 
did  not  bear  at  least  the  name  and  vows  of  a 
believer.  Here  for  the  moment  were  no  young, 
no  old,  no  rich,  no  poor,  for  Christ  was  all  in 
all.  The  accents  of  these  women,  reading  the 
solemn  words,  lent  added  grace  to  the  narrative 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  75 

of  grace  and  pity.  You  hear  your  mother,  sister, 
wife,  or  daughter,  read  the  Book  aloud,  especially 
if  you  have  not  heard  it  read  by  any  one  for 
months,  and  your  spirit  quivers  with  the  thrill 
these  tones  can  give  you. 

Then  suddenly  Miss  Clara  read,  "  Honor  thy 
father  and  thy  mother;  and  thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself." 

Paul  awoke  from  his  dream  as  he  read,  "The 
young  man  saith  unto  him,  All  these  things 
have  I  kept  from  my  youth  up.  What  lack  I 
yet  ? " 

It  was  his  future  father-in-law  who  took  up, 
in  a  dry  tone,  "  Jesus  said  unto  him,  If  thou 
wilt  be  perfect,  go  and  sell  that  thou  hast." 

"  That  means  my  body,  mind,  and  soul," 
thought  Paul.  "  These  are  all  I  have  to  sell. 
Unless  I  must  add  the  sacrifice  of  this  happy 
girl  at  my  side." 

"  And  give  to  the  poor,"  Mr.  Norcross  went  on, 
"and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven.  Come 
and  follow  me." 

As  gentle  music,  the  golden  tones  of  the 
matron  of  the  group,  Mrs.  Norcross,  hostess, 
closed  the  reading;  which,  indeed,  was  a  recita- 
tion, for  she  had  shut  the  volume,  and  her  soli- 
tary diamond  glistened  upon  the  forefinger  that 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


caressed  the  Book  in  her  lap.  Paul  thought  like 
a  tear  the  stone  shone.  "  But  when  the  young 
man  heard  that  saying,  he  went  away  —  exceeding 
sorrowful  —  for  he  had  —  great  possessions  ! " 

"  Our  beloved  pastor,"  said  the  host  softly,  as 
he  took  down  his  eye-glasses  and  lifted  his  head 
with  a  look  of  calm  joy,  "  Brother  Crestlake, 
will  lead  us  at  the  Throne  of  Grace." 

Had  he  been  a  high  priest  confessed,  instead 
of  the  plain,  untitled  "  preaching  brother,"  as 
New  England  Puritanism  has  historically  con- 
tended, this  clerical  gentleman  would  scarce 
have  seemed  mitered  with  a  loftier  authority  in 
the  eyes  of  this  domestic  circle.  To  be  sure, 
his  was  a  wealthy  church,  of  national  influence  in 
the  denomination,  and  he  himself  a  man  of  a 
confessed  brilliancy  of  talent,  in  a  way.  But 
there  was  certainly  nothing  in  his  reputation, 
known  to  Paul,  nor  in  his  personal  presence, 
keenly  read  now  for  the  first  time  by  the  bright, 
young  student  of  successful  men,  nothing  to  war- 
rant the  dominance,  the  almost  sacred  sway, 
which  were  accorded  him  by  this  company. 

Paul  thought  of  his  own  father,  and  how  be- 
comingly his  humble  righteousness  could  have 
worn  such  affectionate  esteem.  Even  this  astute, 
business  man  and  millionaire  might  well  revere 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  77 

Sylvester  Havens.  Even  this  bright  circle  of 
highly-educated  young  people  might  well  do  defer- 
ence to  the  learning,  the  purity,  and  the  self-deny- 
ing service  of  mankind  which  Sylvester  Havens' 
holy  life  had  displayed  for  many  years.  But  the 
sparkling  Mr.  Crestlake,  star  preacher,  with  his 
five  and  thirty  years,  unvexed  by  hardships,  genial 
gentleman  and  prophet  though  he  were,  that  he 
should  be  treated  with  such  refinement  of  rever- 
ence ! 

It  put  a  new  phase  on  the  ministerial  life  for 
Paul  Havens.  He  had  never  seen  his  father 
handled  with  such  velvet  touch,  except  by  the 
very  poor,  the  grateful  sick,  or  the  discerning 
pious  here  and  there.  He  had  never  seen  the 
rich  farmer,  in  all  their  country  pastorates,  who 
did  not  seem  to  feel  that  he  owned  the  pastor  as 
he  did  his  wide-spread  acres  or  his  costly  herds. 
He  had  never  seen  in  Lemuel  Norcross,  autocrat 
of  Crosston,  what  he  now  beheld  in  William  Nor- 
cross' delicate  consideration  for  this  preacher  of 
religion. 

"  We  will  follow  you,  mother,  on  the  pastor's 
arm,"  said  the  host  with  easy  decorum,  now  indi- 
cating the  dining  room  with  a  motion  of  the  hand. 

Indeed,  the  clergyman  had  arisen  from  his 
knees  to  assume  that  place  of  precedence.  He 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


had  done  it  many  times  before,  in  this  home,  and 
knew  just  what  was  expected  of  him. 

Paul  must  have  worn  some  outward  facial  index 
of  his  thoughts  that  prompted  Clara,  as  she  nes- 
tled so  happy  at  his  side,  for  she  said,  —  "  It  is 
the  pastor  and  not  the  man,  Paul.  I  told  you 
how  they  rendered  honor  to  the  preachers  here. 
But  do  you  altogether  like  him?" 

"He  is  faultlessly  dressed,  is  he  not?  —  though 
not  clerically;  and  his  manners  are  so  very  easy," 
said  Paul. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  as  they  moved  along,  "and  he 
will  patronize  you,  as  he  once  tried  to  me,  be- 
fore we  push  our  chairs  back,"  she  replied,  rus- 
tling into  her  place  beside  Paul  at  the  table. 

It  was  a  most  superb  apartment  in  which  they 
were  now  seated  ;  and  a  board  which  never  knew 
stint  smiled  and  flashed  before  them.  As  they 
took  their  places  a  decent  silence  followed,  till 
they  could  hear  the  click  of  the  passing  hoofs 
on  the  pavements  of  the  avenue. 

"Brother    Lem,  ask   a   blessing,"    said   the  host. 

Brother  Lem  was  ready  ;  indeed,  he  was  never 
other  than  ready  for  the  employment  that  came 
next  to  his  hand.  But  what  he  said,  as  he  mum- 
bled his  stereotyped  "blessing,"  for  all  the  world 
like  the  hum  of  his  factory-wheels,  no  mortal  ear 


ON  TJSE  AVENUE.  79 


could  hear.  Clara  knew  it,  however,  by  heart, 
having  understood  him  years  ago,  and  of  late 
years  memory  giving  to  his  mouthings  intelligible 
meanings. 

"Brother  Norcross,"  prompt  and  leading  with 
his  rich  voice,  spoke  the  Rev.  Mr.  Crestlake,  "I 
congratulate  you  on  that  generous  gift  of  five 
thousand  dollars  to  missions,  last  week."  The 
speaker,  in  an  impressive  way,  aproned  himself 
with  his  napkin  clear  to  the  throat.  There  was 
some  thing  exceedingly  pleasing  in  the  sound  of 
this  gentleman's  voice. 

"We  greatly  value  your  approval,"  said  Mrs. 
Norcross,  as  if  she  had  had  a  hand  in  the  coun- 
sels that  prompted  it ;  and  she  had. 

"  We  find  few  men  like  your  brother,"  contin- 
ued the  clergyman,  addressing  Mr.  Lemuel.  "A 
princely  giver ;  a  name  widely  known  in  all  the 
land,  my  brother." 

"Bill's  a  jewel,"  was  the  taciturn  man's  audible 
comment.  His  inaudible  one  might  have  run, 
could  we  know  it,  "And  Bill  's  a  fool  only  with 
his  ministers ;  he  do  n't  manage  'em  as  I  manage 
mine." 

"Uncle  Will,"  said  Clara,  "you  are  always 
handsome  when  you  blush  ! "  And  the  rest  of  the 
pretty  girl's  speech  did  not  seem  to  help  the  poor 


80  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

man  any :  "  It  makes  every  body  happy  to  have 
you  praised." 

"And  to  have  him  prospered,  too,"  said  the  cler- 
gyman, with  great  sincerity,  claiming  his  impres- 
sive lead  again.  "I  am  much  interested  in  the 
spring  outlook,  commercially,  for  our  home  manufac- 
tures," he  continued.  After  which  he  went  on  to 
talk  shop  to  the  tired  and  shopworn  business-man  ; 
and  not,  altogether,  as  a  curious  and  entertained 
learner  might  converse,  to  draw  out  his  hearers, 
either.  The  clergyman  spoke  of  silks  to  this 
world-master  of  silks  as  one  who  himself  was  by 
no  means  uninformed — which  was  a  fact,  the 
bright  fellow.  To  good  advantage  he  displayed 
his  other  than  theological  knowledge.  His  musical 
tones  and  kindly-beaming  smile  helped  him  still. 

"  Is  it  the  opera,  to-night  ? "  almost  impatiently 
broke  in  Mr.  Lemuel,  at  last,  at  a  chance.  He 
addressed  his  brother's  wife,  or  his  own  nephew, 
between  whom  he  sat,  and  either  of  whom  he 
thought  might  have  helped  him. 

But  no  one  helped  him  change  the  theme.  In- 
deed, all  eyes  that  were  not  on  the  dishes  — 
Clara's,  Paul's,  Andrew's  and  Minnie's,  these  re- 
spectfully downcast  —  were  trained  on  the  clergy- 
man. It  was  no  use.  If  Mr.  William  Norcross 
had  seen  the  absurdity  of  it  all,  he  yet  revered 


ON   THE  AVENUE.  8 1 

the  office  of  the  speaker  to  that  degree  that  he 
would  not  have  been  offended,  but  apologetic, 
deferential,  and  certainly  disposed  to  help  in  any 
errors.  It  was  the  pastor !  All  of  which  was  not 
lost  on  Paul  Havens,  student  of  men  and  things, — • 
th£  high  compliment  of  this  child-like  rich  man's 
treatment  of  heaven's  evangelist.  Really,  to  be 
the  pastoral  guide  of  such  a  soul  ought  to  evoke 
all  the  nobility  that  a  preacher  had  in  him ! 
Nobility  ?  Say  humility,  rather,  and  a  very  walk- 
ing and  toiling  on  one's  knees  to  do  one's  best 
and  be  found  faithful ! 

And  then  there  came  a  sharp  analysis  of  him- 
self. He  confessed  the  "I  am  not  worthy"  now, 
from  another  point  of  view  than  that  which 
prompted  him  to  acknowledge  as  much  to  good 
Steve  Crane.  Then,  it  was  not  that  he  was  not 
patient  enough,  not  self-denying  enough,  to  endure 
the  unfeeling  neglect  of  the  coarse-minded  and  the 
dull-hearted  in  the  churches.  Now  it  was  that 
he  was  not  great  enough  in  mind  and  heart  and 
soul  to  be  the  companion  and  guide  of  such  a 
soul  as  this  generous  host.  These  two  brothers 
before  him  were  the  opposite  poles  of  the  pos- 
sible pastor's  world. 

"I  suppose  these  young  ladies  and  gentlemen 
contemplate  the  present  opera  season  with  a 


82  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

degree  of  satisfaction,"  said  Mr.  Crestlake,  will- 
ing to  yield  his  business  topic,  at  last. 

"  It  is  certainly  very  brilliant,  sir,"  said  Miss 
Minnie. 

"Your  father,  sir,"  this  to  Paul,  "would 
hardly  approve,  or  acquiesce,  as  we  city  pastors 
must."  His  slightly  regretful  tone  preserved  his 
orthodoxy  finely,  at  the  same  time  that,  moving 
his  hand,  he  seemed  to  say,  "We  have  jumped 
clean  over  the  old  scruples,  much  against  our 
will." 

"  You  are  very  kind  and  indulgent,"  said  the 
hostess.  "You  help  us  out  so  with  the  young 
people,  pastor."  Dear  heart,  and  Protestant,  she 
relied  upon  his  casuistry  to  help  her  out;  she 
acknowledged  his  conscience,  and  denied  her 
own  ;  for  she  was  not  so  taught  concerning  the 
theatres,  in  her  New  England  girlhood. 

"  My  father,  sir,"  said  Paul,  rather  anxious  to 
reply,  "is  tried  with  different  social  problems. 
The  poor  man's  impatience  and  even  frenzy  un- 
der woes  of  want,  for  instance." 

There  was  a  fine  gleam  of  good  steel  in  the 
blade  thus  half  drawn.  Yet  it  showed  the  col- 
lege boy  too  plainly ;  and  the  reader  will  ob- 
serve the  fierce  contention  which  was  daily  tor- 
turing the  young  fellow's  soul.  All  of  which 


ON  THE  AVENUE,  83 

Paul  saw,  the  next  moment,  biting  his  lip  with 
modest  regret. 

"To  be  sure.  A  rural  pastorate  is  a  differ- 
ent thing  from  one  of  our  intense  city-life  pas- 
torates," said  the  clergyman,  as  the  company 
were  breaking  off  into  the  drawing-room.  "  You 
are  not  intending  to  preach  ? " 

"  He  is  to  be  my  father's  partner,  sir,"  volun- 
tered  Clara ;  for  Paul  was  slow  to  reply,  nettled 
as  she  thought  by  the  patronizing  tone  of  the 
clergyman's  last  remark. 

"You  will  smoke  with  us,  Mr.  Havens,"  said 
cousin  Andrew,  approaching  and  pointing  after 
the  older  gentlemen,  who  were  passing  into  a 
little  gem  of  a  smoking-room. 

"  Ah,  that 's  the  after-luxury ! "  said  the  cler- 
gyman, with  a  little  sigh  of  relish,  which  was 
half  apology  also,  for  his  own  part,  as  he 
stepped  promptly  into  the  cozy  nook. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Paul,  "  if  you  will  excuse  me, 
I  have  smoked  my  last  cigar."  This  last  for 
Clara's  ear. 

"  Oh,  Paul  Havens,  have  you  ? "  cried  Clara ; 
and  with  that  she  flew  up  and  kissed  his  clean 
mouth,  smack ! 

"I  don't  blame  a  fellow,"  said  Andrew,  in 
genuine  good  nature,  "if  it  were  to  please  such 


84  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

a  girl  as  you  are,  coz.  But  you  '11  excuse  us 
then,  my  boy?  You'll  go  down  to  the  theatre 
with  us,  no  doubt  ;  shall  meet  you  when  the 
carriages  come  to  the  door."  And  he  joined 
the  other  gentlemen. 

"  Why,  Paul ! "  asked  Clara,  as  the  two  went 
on  to  join  the  ladies. 

"First,    to   please   you,   little   girl." 

"  I    love   you   for   it !  " 

"  Second,  because  I  will  live  in  perfect  health, 
if  possible.  I  '11  be  a  sound  body,  if  I  can  not 
be  a  sound  mind  ! "  He  spoke  so  gravely  and 
seemed  troubled. 

She  insisted  then,  imperatively,  on  having  him 
to  herself  in  the  great  parlors  across  the  hall, 
if  only  for  five  minutes.  They  walked,  —  she 
talked.  She  asked  him  questions,  east,  west, 
north,  and  south.  She  would  know  what  be- 
clouded him. 

Dare   he   tell   her  ? 

"  Clara,   you   have   seen   this   clergyman." 

"Yes;   yes." 

"  Could  I  stand  where  he  stands  in  this  city, 
be  worthy  of  such  an  entire  in  this  house,  snd 
others  like  it  ?" 

"Why,   what   do   you   mean?" 

"  God    help    me !      Sometimes    I    burn    to    try 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  85 


what  genuine  effort  might  do  with  genuine 
men  about  one ;  for  the  glory  of  that  dear  old 
faith  which  my  father  proclaims,  and  which  this 
gentleman  is  set  to  preach.  Yet  I  have  neither 
the  consecration  of  the  one,  nor  the  self-satis- 
faction of  the  other.  I  can't  see  my  own  fit- 
ness; yet  the  thought  is  making  me  perfectly 
wretched !  " 

Blank   silence ! 

"  You   think  me   a   conceited   fool  ? " 

Continued   silence. 

"You  despise  me,  that  I  measure  myself  with 
this  successful  man  ? " 

Silence  still. 

"For,  my  love,  —  I  speak  my  heart  without 
reserve  to  you.  This  is  a  precious  confidence, 
and  therefore  most  unreserved.  Come.  Speak ! 
Could  I  ever  hope  to  get  the  ears  of  this 
great  city  ?  For  to  work  with  my  father's  vil- 
lagers, and  village  owners,  I  could  never!  That's 
the  absurdity  of  it.  That  such  a  heart  as  mine 
should  be  called  !  " 

"  Paul,"  she  said,  and  seemed  so  distressed. 
"  You  know  full  well  that  I  could  never  be 
a  minister's  wife." 

"  Why,  now  ?  Tell  me  why  ? "  pleadingly,  — 
the  inconsistent  fellow  ! 


86  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"Ask  your   invalid   mother   why." 

"But  intelligent  churches  have  given  up  the 
bonnet  and  ribbon  criticism,  child." 

"Yes,  and  gone  to  using  the  microscope  on  the 
husband's  rhetoric,  doctrines,  and  private  beliefs. 
Paul,  it  would  be  torture  to  me  to  see  you  sub- 
jected to  the  discontent  that  Puss,  here,  expresses 
with  her  pastors." 

"Pastors?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  They  change  in  this  church 
every  few  years,  as  I  can  well  remember.  In- 
deed, these  nervous,  over-strained  city  people  are 
harder  to  keep  content  than  our  rough  country 
folks.  These  people  are  discontented  with  every 
thing,  from  the  opera  singer  to  the  minister." 

"And  most  discontent  with  themselves,  no 
doubt,"  sighed  Paul. 

"But   they   do   not   realize   that." 

"Your   uncle,  who   reveres   the   ministry  " 

"  Ah,  uncle  is  one  in  ten  thousand !  He  and 
Aunt  Matilda  are  of  the  old  generation,  and  they 
never  suffer  a  lisp  of  Sunday-dinner-tearing-the- 
sermons-to-tatters.  But  the  young  generation, 
when  we  are  alone,  —  why,  sir,"  with  an  emphatic 
squeeze  of  his  arm,  "they  are  lenient  to  Booth 
and  Florence  in  comparison  with  their  savagery 
with  the  Crestlakes." 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  87 

"They   do    not    like  him?" 

"They  like  him  by  fits  and  starts.  The  nice 
people  in  this  city,  you  hermit,  neither  like  nor 
dislike  any  thing  long.  Paul  Havens,  I  know  you. 
A  little  girl  like  me  has  some  faint  penetration 
when  love  inspires  her.  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  you 
little  know  the  cross  that  one  must  bear  to  be 
a  successful  preacher  in  one  of  these  aesthetical 
churches.  No,  no,  you  shall  hear  me ! "  And  she 
hovered  in  front  of  him  and  stopped  his  walk. 
"To  see  you,  so  frank  and  open  as  I  know 
you ;  you  so  independent  and  outspoken ;  you  so 
downright  direct  when  you  think  yourself  right, 
—  to  see  you  attempting  to  adapt  yourself  before 
the  changeful  moods  of  people  whose  religion  is 
largely  fashion,  bridling  your  tongue,  your  hands, 
your  brains,  and  your  feet,  or  pampered  into 
mannerisms  on  the  other  hand  —  oh,  sir,  you 
could  never  do  it !  And  I,  sir,  would  never  try 
to  do  it,  for  my  part ! " 

"You  pretty  preacher,  quite  a  sermon!"  said 
he.  "Your  observation  of  things  would  surprise 
any  body  who  had  never  seen  a  Yankee  girl  of 
twenty ;  yet,  of  course,  I  believe  you  are  wrong." 

But,  though  he  tried  to  be  cheery,  it  was  too 
grave  a  crisis  in  both  their  lives  for  much  good 
cheer.  He  caught  her  two  burning  cheeks  in  his 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


hands,  and  looking  down  deep  into  her  very  soul, 
resumed,  "My  glorious  girl,  I  have  had  a  week  of 
tragedy !  " 

"I  know  it  now,"  she  shot  in.  "I  will  fight 
for  you  and  with  you ;  I  will  save  you ! " 

"And,"  he  continued,  as  if  she  had  not  spoken, 
"  I  must  try  to  do  my  fellowmen  some  good  in 
this  world.  It  is  death  to  me  if  I  refuse." 

"  I  '11  go  to  the  end  of  the  world  with  you, 
doing  good.  See !  we  shall  have  thousands," 
she  spoke  like  a  flash  of  light,  and  only  took 
the  time  between  his  labored  breaths. 

"What  does  an  earnest  man  care  for  these 
silly  social  discontents  that  are  in  his  way  ?  He 
can  march  right  on,  like  a  giant,  like  a  Chris- 
topher, bearing  the  Christ " 

•  "Yes,  in  India  he  could.  I'll  go  there  with 
you.  But,  sir,  in  this  Christian  city,  these  trifles 
would  bite,  stab,  fetter,  blind,  entangle,  craze 
you !  I  know  you,  sir ;  you  are  too  direct  a 
man.  Why,  you  could  never  get  on  as  my  own 
father's  pulpit-servant !  Oh,  oh !  what  have  I 
said  ? "  She  bit  her  lip  with  confusion,  that  she 
should  have  dared  to  speak  out  her  mind  so 
bluntly,  even  to  her  lover,  concerning  her  father, 
whom  she  always  dutifully  mantled  with  charity. 

Now     that     last     was     a    fact    on    which    Paul 


ON  THE  AVENUE  89 

Havens  was  well  convinced.  The  reference  to 
Lemuel  Norcross,  parishioner,  brought  him  back 
to  familiar  ground. 

"  I  am  not  as  good  a  man  as  my  father. 
No;  I  could  not  endure " 

"What  Pastor  Havens  will  not  long,  Paul. 
The  little  church  at  Crosston  is  killing  him,  with 
its  petty  contentions." 

"  Great  God,  pity  me ! "  cried  the  young  fellow : 
"  I  can  not,  can  not  endure  this  indecision  long ! " 

"Paul,  there  are  ten  thousand  ways  of  doing 
good,  are  there  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,    precious." 

"Then  let  us  take  all  the  ten  thousand  and 
spend  our  lives  doing  good  to  mankind,  if  only 
the  Lord  will  excuse  us  from  that  one  way." 

Paul  noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  her  tone 
was  not  as  tender,  not  as  afflicted,  as  he  had 
anticipated.  It  was  cold,  resolved;  it  startled 
him. 

"And  what  if  God  will  not  excuse  me?"  he 
asked. 

"  Then,    Paul,  he   will    have   to   excuse   me ! " 

"What!  Clara,  do  you  believe  a  life  is  safe 
that  deliberately  rebels  ?  " 

"  Is  it  a  lovers'  quarrel  ? "  suddenly  asked 
Cousin  Fidie,  alias  Puss,  putting  her  face  in  at 


9°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


the  portieres;  "because  —  you  will  excuse  me  — 
the  horses  are  at  the  door.  It 's  time,  children." 

"Ah,  Miss  Norcross,  you  are  right.  It  is 
nearly  nine  o'clock,"  responded  Paul,  looking  at 
his  watch  and  decidedly  grateful  for  the  oppor- 
tune intrusion. 

"  But  we  have  a  box,  Mr.  Havens ;  only  we 
should  be  off.  Clara,  you  are  dressed,  I  see," 
and  Puss  crept  nearer.  "  I  '11  look  to  him,  if 
you  '11  risk  me,  till  you  get  cloaked." 

Clara  had  read  her  cousin's  verdict  on  Paul 
Havens  before  the  dinner  was  half  over.  How  ? 
That  is  more  than  man  can  tell ;  but  somehow 
she  had  read  the  verdict.  Puss  knew  that  she 
had,  moreover ;  yet  the  two  ladies  had  not  ex- 
changed a  word  about  the  gentleman. 

Clara  looked  full  in  Puss'  eyes  now.  She  was 
yet  trembling  with  the  exertion  of  will  necessary 
for  these  last  perilous  words  with  the  man  for 
whom  she  could  have  offered  up  her  young  life. 
Puss'  sudden  coming  left  her  in  the  blackest  night, 
as  to  what  effect  her  defiance  had  had  on  Paul. 

"But  he  is  not  to  be  a  clergyman,  if  you  please, 
Miss,"  Clara  had  said  to  herself  at  the  toilet 
table.  "  Therefore  we  shall  have  no  rivalry 
between  cousins,  my  dear,  shrewd  girl.  He  is 
mine,  all  mine !  And  a  silk-weaver." 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  9 1 

Now,  however,  all  was  changed.  The  old 
settlement  made  in  distant  Crosston,  it  seems, 
was  not  standing  firm.  What  if  this  man,  the 
soul  of  honor,  should  say  to  her,  "Then  I 
must  obey  God,  rather  than  man  or  woman. 
You  of  course,  release  me,  that  I  may  go,  en- 
dure all  things,  and  do  my  duty  ? " 

And  having  said  this,  possibly  within  the 
next  few  days  of  their  visit,  what  if  the  family 
should  need  to  know  the  reasons? — as  they  cer- 
tainly would,  the  silk-business  being  put  out  of 
skein  by  the  means. 

And  what  then,  Puss  being  in  waiting  ?  Then 
months,  —  a  year, — years,  —  Puss  waiting.  Shrewd, 
bright,  keen,  good  Puss,  all  devoted  to  a  city 
mission;  a  woman-power — the  greatest,  by  the 
way,  in  the  city  church ;  kind  and  admiring 
Puss,  —  accomplished  and  elegant  Puss  !  How  su- 
perb she  looked  here  and  now,  dressed  in  exquisite 
taste;  just  enough  diamonds;  just  enough  color, 
a  mere  bit  of  it  in  the  shape  of  a  bouquet  that 
peeped  from  beneath  the  white  down  of  the 
cloak  that  she  was  drawing  about  her ;  other- 
wise, raven-like  from  head  to  foot,  and  white  here 
there  like  a  dove's  feather  or  two,  which  the 
raven  might  have  plucked  off  in  some  encounter. 
So  much  for  a  man's  remembrance  of  her. 


92  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

This  dove  put  her  hand  to  her  breast  and 
cast  her  eyes  down,  as  if  missing  some  of  her 
own  soft  plumage.  She  had  lost  indeed  her 
peace.  Pretty  dove,  never  prettier  than  at  this 
present  moment, — drooping  the  head,  the  eyes 
filling  with  a  mist,  thinking  all  these  things 
over,  seen  in  bird's-eye  view.  The  raven  being 
in  waiting  there,  of  course  the  dove  dare  not 
coo.  The  raven  offering  to  wait  and  let  the 
dove  fly.  Fly  whither  ?  Why,  to  be  sure,  only 
up-stairs  for  a  moment.  Still,  dove,  there  's  many 
a  wind  when  once  one  is  on  the  wing.  Who 
can  tell  whither  you  '11  fly,  if,  as  your  little  flut- 
tering heart  desires,  one  does  fly  now  ? 

Clara  turned  one  swift  look  on  Paul  Havens' 
anxious  face.  It  was  enough.  She  knew  then 
that  at  least  his  heart  was  true  to  her.  It 
was,  she  decided,  nothing  but  a  woman's  fears 
that  had  alarmed  her. 

"  Paul,  you  will  go  ?  You  will  be  diverted. 
You  will  see  duty  clearer,  after  having  seen  the 
world  as  it  is,  to-night." 

"  Yes ;  yes.  Go  get  ready,"  he  replied,  in 
perfect  good  humor.  At  any  rate  Puss,  waiting 
and  hearing,  could  not  detect  the  sadness  of 
his  tone,  and  wholly  misinterpreted  the  scene, 
evidently,  for  she  remarked,  as  Clara  disappeared: 


ON  THE  AVENUE.  93 

"You  do  not  care  for  amusements,  I  suppose, 
being  shut  up  so  long  to  books  ? " 

"That  was  not  it  exactly,"  he  replied,  and 
fell  to  conversing  in  a  general  way,  till  the 
party  was  off. 


94  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


V. 

A   SERIOUS   QUESTION. 

1 1  "\7OUR  father  does  not  go  to  opera,"  re- 
-*-  marked  Paul  Havens  to  Andrew  Norcross, 
as  the  carriages  moved  down  the  avenue. 

"  He  has  never  been  in  his  life,  nor  has 
mamma,"  replied  Puss,  taking  the  answer  from 
Andrew's  slower  mouth. 

"  In  which  respect,  I  am  like  them,"  remarked 
Paul,  somewhat  gravely,  though  wishing  he  had 
introduced  some  other  topic. 

"  Can  it  be  true  ?  A  young  fellow  who  has 
seen  as  much  of  the  world  as  you  have?"  Puss 
said  it,  Andrew  looked  it. 

"  That 's  the  Puritan  of  it,  cousins,"  promptly 
remarked  Clara ;  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  with 
pretty  apology  in  her  manner. 

"  Busy,  you  know,"  shouted  Paul,  for  they  had 
now  struck  the  rougher  granite  pavements  of  the 
old  town,  "at  country  schools  in  country  villages." 

"And  nearly  every  body,  in  our  village  church, 
would  say  't  was  wicked,"  cried  Clara. 

"You   do   not   think   so,"    roared   Andrew. 


A   SERIOUS  QUESTION.  95 

"  Hardly  that,"  shouted  Paul,  "  though  I  con- 
fess to  the  subtle  influence  of  a  silent,  life-long 
example." 

"His  dear,  magnificent  father  would  cut  his 
own  right  hand  off,  almost,"  screamed  Clara, 
though  her  voice  was  scarcely  less  charming  at 
this  pitch,  "to  avoid  offending  the  good  brethren." 

"  And  you  have  traveled  in  Europe  ? "  asked 
Puss,  whose  voice  rather  piped  and  showed  its 
years,  straining  against  the  pavement  roar. 

"Oh,  well,  that  was  a  knapsack  tramp,  with  a 
lot  of  college  fellows,  worshiping  at  old  shrines, 
rather  than  new,  you  know.  Mostly  Alps,  Greece, 
Palestine,  and  Orient,"  was  Paul's  reply. 

"We  have  been  going  to  theatre  and  opera 
only  four  or  five  years,"  said  Andrew.  "Still, 
I  'm  tired ;  at  any  rate,  I  heartily  envy  you  your 
new  sensations." 

The  sensations !  To  the  Puritan  student,  lover 
of  music,  once  the  class  poet,  and  to  be  the  class 
orator,  an  enthusiastic  critic  of  art,  and  keenly 
sensitive  to  artistic  effects.  The  sensations  of  the 
reality,  to  this  dreamer  whose  dreams,  over  his 
hired  piano  in  the  college  roam,  were  raptures. 
He  knew  every  note  of  FAUST,  the  night's  opera, 
and  could  play  it  without  the  score.  Work  after 
work  had  he  and  Clara  Norcross  rendered  to« 


96  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

gether,  he  with  his  violin,  and  she  at  the  piano, 
in  the  pleasant  Crosston  home,  for  she  was  as 
much  a  musical  enthusiast  as  he.  It  was  in  sum- 
mer days,  and  over  music,  that  they  first  became 
attached. 

"Oh,  Paul!"  she  would  exclaim,  "you  should 
hear  it  with  all  its  setting ! " 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  would  musingly  reply; 
"  how  can  music  be  added  to  ?  I  hear  it:  all, 
see  it,  people  the  scene,  and  thrill  with  it,  till 
I  'm  actually  unstrung,  here  and  now." 

Clara  Norcross  put  out  her  hand,  as  the  car- 
riage halted,  and  touched  his  under  her  cloak. 
Both  hands  were  actually  cold.  "  The  realization, 
at  last,"  thought  she,  thinking  for  him,  hoping 
for  him,  and  combining  her  own  exquisite  mem- 
ories of  this  pleasure-house,  till  she  could  not 
speak  for  a  childlike  emotion.  "My  dream-land 
made  real,"  thought  he.  "  Do  I  wish  it  ?  Will 
it  survive  the  rude  shock  of  real  voices  and  real 
figures,  with  real  men  and  women,  the  hundreds 
of  other  auditors  chattering  about  me  ?  May  be 
the  charm  of  this  music  will  be  henceforth  for- 
ever gone." 

The  ring  of  prancing  hoofs  and  click  of  carriage 
doors;  the  shout  of  drivers  to  policemen,  and  the 
sharp  reply;  the  gleam  of  peeping  lights,  that 


A  SERIOUS  QUESTION.  97 

flash  and  fade  and  reappear  again  on  wheeling, 
halting,  winding  vehicles  ;  the  slowly  moving  line, 
that  frets  you  as  it  whets  you  with  impatience 
for  the  canopy,  and  your  turn  to  fly  out  of  this 
black  night-air  and  confusion. 

"My   dear,   your   cloak,   wind   it   close." 

"And  you,  sir,  shut  the  door  and  be  patient. 
See  that  beggar  at  the  curb.  How  cold  she 
looks,  poor  thing !  Why  will  she  stand  here,  to 
catch  a  mere  glimpse  of  us  silly  folks,  who  have 
as  many  troubles  in  life  as  she  ?  Dear,  dear !  '* 
drumming  the  chilled  feet  on  the  carriage  floor. 

"  Go  on !  go  on  !  Does  Michael  keep  his  turn, 
do  you  think,  Andrew  ? "  Thus  we  chat  and 
chatter,  waiting. 

"  I  see  father  and  Minnie,"  Clara  manages  to 
say. 

"  I  see "  the  Browns  and  the  Smiths  and  the 
Robinsons ;  all  your  friends,  indeed,  you  see, 
except  the  particular  ones  you  are  watching  for ; 
as  they  alight,  as  they  flash  in  while  half 
hooded,  half  revealed,  as  they  flit  and  disappear, 
making  room  for  your  vehicle,  if  ever  they 
will. 

"Here  child!"  It  is  Clara  who  has  put  out 
her  gloved  arm  and  motioned  to  the  street-waif. 
"Take  that,  and  sweeter  dreams  to-night,"  as 


98  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

she  bestows  what  uncounted  coin  she  chances  to 
find  "  in  the  pocket  of  this  dress." 

At  last !  Now  trip  it  gaily  along  the  passage- 
ways, like  rose  petals  and  green  leaves ;  bright 
is  she,  somber-dressed  is  he ;  winged  on  by  un- 
kindly draughts  of  an  air  that  has  a  perfume 
all  its  own.  Were  you  blindfolded,  you  would 
yet  know  you  were  at  the  Academy  by  the 
frankincense  of  old  gala  nights  of  years  and  years 
that  ever  lingers.  The  very  atmosphere  is  very 
different  from  that  of  the  church,  the  home,  or 
the  hard,  clear,  outer  world.  The  faint,  far  echo 
of  the  muffled  melody.  Come,  hasten !  At  the 
door  of  your  box,  all  here?  The  pleasure  of  antici- 
pation reaches  its  height,  just  here  and  now. 
And  some  do  say  that  the  pleasure  of  the 
evening  from  this  moment  always  begins  to 
decline. 

Ah,  the  sudden  blaze  of  splendor!  —  the  light, 
which  throbs  with  movement,  beaten  with  count- 
less fans,  loaded  with  its  burden  of  melody, 
wafted  in  little  gales  up  to  you,  so  that  you 
seem  to  breathe  the  light  and  breathe  the  song. 
The  light,  quivering  with  glances  that  invite  and 
defy,  that  woo  and  court  and  envy ;  glances 
that  dart  out  and  retreat,  that  go  on  errands  of 
insolence  and  messages  of  love.  A  living  light 


A  SERIOUS  QUESTION:  99 

is  quivering  with  all  these.  In  that  light  you 
have  come  at  length  to  live  your  little  moment, 
seeing  and  to  be  seen.  Seeing  and  being  seen, 
you  are  yet  hearing  all  the  while.  That  is  the 
peculiarity  of  it.  All  your  senses  have  turned 
to  seeing  and  hearing.  Not  you,  old  habitues! 
With  you  it  is  all  seeing,  doubtless,  "who  is 
here  ? "  But  these  two  rural  idealists,  who  have 
come  to  this  vision  of  enchantment,  —  it  is  with 
their  eyes,  ears,  and  hearts  that  we  are  con- 
cerned. However  accustomed  Clara  was  to  the 
scene,  she  found  it  impossible  to  either  see  or 
hear  for  her  own  enjoyment.  She  lost  her  per- 
sonality in  her  lover ;  she  literally  put  herself 
in  his  place. 

As  Paul  Havens  gazed  out  on  the  brilliant 
audience,  whose  half-indolent  delight  lent  all  their 
faces  at  least  a  momentary  smiling  peace  and 
aspect  of  content,  Miss  Norcross  knew,  as  well 
as  if  he  spoke  it,  that  he  was  thinking,  like  a 
philosopher :  "  I  have  been  bred  in  a  higher 
school  of  life  than  these  people.  Which  is  the 
true  view  of  life  ?  father's,  I  am  sure ! " 

Andrew  leaned  across  the  chair-back  to  point 
out  this  great  merchant  and  that,  here  resting 
alter  the  day's  toil  with  folded  arms  and  de- 
corous interest,  simulating,  at  least,  an  artistic 


IOO  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

knowledge  and  a  cultured  pleasure.  "  The  Gov- 
ernor, just  there.  And  next  to  him,  General 
Blank,"  etc. 

"  Ah  ? "  And  forgetting  the  hearing  in  a  phil- 
osopher's seeing,  Paul  turned  his  thoughtful  face 
to  study  them ;  a  face  that  itself  grew  fascinat- 
ing to  many  observers.  It  was  not  the  conven- 
tional young  man's  face,  perhaps,  —  this  one  on 
which  glasses  were  leveled,  —  or  it  was  a  new 
social  question,  "  Whose  face,  a  new  and  hand- 
some in  our  friend  Norcross'  box  ? "  But 
to  Clara,  the  face  at  her  side  was  significant 
with  a  thousand  eager  questions.  Thus,  if  she 
had  actually  read  his  thoughts  and  written  them 
down,  — 

"  These  hard  workers  came  here  to  unbend ! 
Is  there  any  harm  in  that  ?  I  wonder  if  they 
go  to  prayer-meetings,  on  other  nights,  to  un- 
bend and  rest?  Can  these  women  at  their  sides 
lead  them  to  the  church  for  Sabbath  rest  ?  Are 
the  two  kinds  of  rest  needed  —  opera  rest,  and 
rest  of  worship  —  and  are  they  compatible  ? 
These  younger  fellows  about  town,  who  pass 
and  repass  diamond-studded  glasses,  how  many 
of  them  could  earn  their  own  living  ?  How 
many  of  them  earned  the  price  of  the  two 
seats  they  use  for  this  evening?  I  don't  be- 


A   SERIOUS  QUESTION.  IOI 

lieve  I  would  need  fear  to  meet  them  in  a  com- 
petition of  real  life,  bred  in  the  school  of 
hardship."  The  conceit  of  it  ?  Yes,  but  it  was 
a  thought  and  not  a  speech. 

Profusion  of  dress,  soft  and  dreamy  glances 
from  beautiful  women  to  most  attentive  men, 
with  pretty  little  comments ;  the  most  refined 
voluptuousness  everywhere  in  sight ;  then  little 
tempests  of  passion,  beginning  at  the  stage  and 
sweeping  out  like  a  tiny  gale  of  emotion,  that 
set  all  these  roses  and  lilies  trembling  and  sway- 
ing. The  culmination,  now  and  then,  in  a  lan- 
guid applause,  like  effeminate  thunder. 

"And  this  is  the  life  we  might  lead,  Clara," 
Paul  whispered.  "We  might  know  the  best  of 
these  people.  I  might  grub  for  dividends,  weav- 
ing silk  all  day,  and  at  night  rest  in  this  society 
and  spend  the  dividends.  Is  that  it  ? " 

"  Hush,  my  clear,"  she  answered.  "  I  do  n't 
know.  Let 's  forget  the  audience  and  listen  to 
the  music  awhile." 

"What  an  audience  this  would  be  to  preach 
to,  Clara !  Just  think  of  one  with  a  grave,  kind 
voice  stepping  out  here  in  front  and  beginning 
with  that  gravest,  kindest  theme " 

"Please  don't  think  of  it,  Paul.  I  will  not." 
But  she  laughed  with  him  at  the  absurdity  of  it; 


IO2  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


and  they  settled  back  into  their  seats  for  the 
remnant  of  the  seeing  and  hearing. 

Poor  Gretchen  in  the  cell!  Poor  little  peas- 
ant maidens  singing  wild  songs  and  sad  laments 
in  notes  almost  divine !  Who  can  read  it  and 
not  hold  his  breath  lest  he  miss  a  single  throb 
of  this  sacred  human  sorrow  ?  Who  can  see  it 
—  the  wisps  of  straw  in  her  fair  hands,  with 
which  the  lovely  maniac  is  toying  —  and  not  chill 
after  chill  freeze  his  heart  with  every  great  sob 
of  the  muffled  orchestra?  Condemned  to  death? 
You  can  not  have  it  so !  You  start  out  of  your 
seat  to  save  her,  and  protest  that  she  is  more 
sinned  against  than  sinning ! 

These  two  pure-hearted  lovers  sat  spell-bound. 
They  were  forgetting  each  other,  seeing  and 
hearing  Margaret.  Matchless  art  of  Gcethe. 
Matchless  music  of  Gounod.  Paul  Havens  knew 
every  line  of  the  German  poem  in  its  native  ver- 
bal clothing.  Suddenly  it  dawned  upon  him  that, 
though  he  and  Clara  had  often  read  German 
poetry  together,  yet  they  had  never  read  old 
Faust  together.  Would  he  like  to  hear  her  ren- 
der Margaret,  answering  to  his  Mephistopheles  ? 
What,  as  they  had  read  Schiller's  William  Tell? 
Heaven  forbid ! 

Why   not,   if  here   you   see  it?    True.     And  at 


A   SERIOUS  QUES-TION.  IO3 


the  sight  of  that  betrayer,  now  stolen  in  to  the 
cell,  Paul  caught  a  half-glance  at  the  pallid  face 
of  the  New  England  maiden  at  his  side.  Her 
very  soul  was  conjured  by  the  sorcerer,  for  the 
moment.  Her  cheeks  gave  red  and  white  by 
turns,  and  through  her  parted  lips  she  seemed 
about  to  cry  out  with  the  spell  of  sympathy. 

"It  is  the  music  so  affects  her,"  thought  he. 
"Yes,  to  be  sure,  the  music  and  these  rarest 
voices  in  the  world."  Are  you  sure?  Has  she 
often  read  Faust  ?  Has  she  ever  read  it  ?  You 
do  not  like  to  think  of  that  plot  a  favorite  one 
in  the  literary  taste  of  the  woman  whom  you 
will  marry,  you  Puritan.  Yet  we  happen  to  know 
that  Clara  Norcross  had  never  read  the  poem. 
She  had  often  seen  the  opera. 

Gretchen,  Gretchen,  what  is  your  fault  ?  Do 
not  whisper  it,  read  it  not  aloud.  And  thou, 
sold  to  Satan,  what  hast  thou  done  ?  Murder  and 
seduction  set  to  thrilling  music,  glorious  music, 
thrilling  music !  One  is  confused ;  one  knows 
not  how  to  think  correctly.  One  concludes  that 
he  would  not  like  his  little  sister,  or  his  little 
Christian  friends,  just  at  his  side  in  all  operas  — 
not  in  all.  In  how  many  operas?  Think  of  what 
ones  —  the  count  will  not  fatigue  you  —  not  one. 

"That's   the   Puritan   of   it."      Of   course   it   is. 


104  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

We   confessed   as   much   when  we   began   to   tran- 
scribe this  young  possible  preacher's  mind  a  night 
at    opera.      Pitifully    self-centered    he,    of    course. 
How   could   he   be   otherwise,   feeling   and    fearing 
that    God's   choice   might   have   centered   on   him. 
The   great  tenor  is  now  singing.     The   memory 
of  the   church-portal  is  now  before  the  Gretchen's 
musing   eyes.     Angels   of    good   and   evil   are   now 
calling   in   sweet   and    in   dreadful    chorus.      Deep 
laboring    organ    tones    swell    mightily  the    strain. 
These   thousands   sit   in   awe   and    hang   upon   the 
flexion     of      a     tone !        Clara     Norcross    is     in 
tears    for    this    poor    Gretchen,  for    the    morning 
dawns   and    she    must    die !     Tears  ?      Many   have 
shed  them  for  the  peasant   maid ;    many  eyes  are 
shedding  them  now.     Paul  Havens'  face  is  wet  as 
any  of  the  women's.     Shall  he   be  the  better   for 
this   weeping  ?     Who   can  say  so  ?   for   those   who 
weep  are  good  already ;  and  as  for  Mephistopheles 
in   this   brilliant   throng,  does  he   shed  any   tears? 
Suddenly  —  it   always    seems   suddenly — all   was 
over,    and    Paul    was     now    throwing     the     wraps 
about    Clara.     There   was  a  great  stir  everywhere, 
for  most   were   now   retiring.      Doors    were   open- 
ing,  the   outer   air   was  coming  in. 

"  What     do     you     say  ? "     Andrew    was    asking 
coldly  and   curiously. 


A   SERIOUS  QUESTION. 


"Did  you  enjoy  the  evening?"  Puss  and  Min- 
nie were  inquiring. 

"  Got  a  cigar,  Andrew  ?  May  I  smoke,  Miss 
Minnie,  in  our  carriage  ? "  Mr.  Deacon  Norcross, 
trustee,  silk-weaver,  and  millionaire  was  asking, 
putting  on  her  cloak  and  his  coat.  "What  do 
you  say  to  this  for  an  evening,  Paul  ? " 

But  in  all  the  genteel  confusion,  Paul  Havens 
managed  to  get  a  chance  and  bent  his  burning 
face  to  Clara's  ear :  "  I  say,"  he  whispered,  with 
nervous  fervor,  "that  I  will  go  out  and  preach 
to  this  sad  world  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the 
blessed  Christ  till  I  die!" 

You  see,  reader,  that  when  you  stir  a  human 
soul  from  its  depths,  no  matter  with  what  you 
stir  it,  that  which  is  deepest  in  that  soul  will 
rise  up  and  float  upon  the  surface. 

Clara  Norcross  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  with 
one  of  those  wonderful,  deep  looks  of  hers: 
"And  this  is  what  the  opera  has  done  for  you? 
Powerless  to  allure  ? "  she  asked.  But  her  tone 
was  not  dissentient.  She  unmistakably  offered 
her  lips  to  him.  He  kissed  her  swiftly,  whisper- 
ing, — 

"  Do   you   agree  ? " 

But  there  is  no  time  for  answering  at  any 
length.  You  are  being  pushed  and  ruffled  along 


106  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

the  corridors ;  you  are  nodding  to  people ;  you 
are  feeling  the  wintry  blast,  and  etc. 

"  It  is  snowing,  Andrew  says,"  Puss  remarks, 
with  a  little  shudder.  "Before  the  week  is  out, 
we  '11  try  the  flyers  out  on  the  roads,"  which 
showed  where  her  thoughts  were  already ;  but 
then,  she  has  been  going  to  opera  and  prayer- 
meetings,  alternately,  for  several  years. 

You  are  at  last  handed  into  your  carriage. 
Andrew  must  smoke.  He  is  not  one  who  goes 
out  between  acts,  for  a  cigarette  even ;  and  as 
for  a  social  glass,  —  why,  never !  He  is  a  Sab- 
bath-school teacher  of  a  class  of  boys  in  that 
palatial  church  parlor.  But  to  smoke  is  to  sit 
with  old  Michael  on  the  box  outside  in  the 
snow.  What  a  strange  garment  of  protection  is  a 
cigar !  Say,  rather,  what  a  tyrant !  Then,  too, 
Andrew  had  felt  the  excitement  a  little,  —  the 
stolid,  cool  fellow !  he,  too,  had  listened  for  the 
minister's  son.  To-morrow  he  would  converse 
about  impressions  when  they  were  alone. 

Clara  is  such  a  bundle,  shrunk  into  her  corner, 
and  saying  nothing;  but  thinking,  feeling,  hoping, 
fearing,  ah !  so  many  things  ;  all  silent  and  dark 
without,  and  her  soul  aflame  within. 

"To-morrow,  sleighing,"  Cousin  Fidelia,  alias 
Puss,  begins,  talking  at  Paul.  "The  next  day, 


A  SERIOUS  QUESTION.  IO7 

—  woll,  some  friends  at  the  house  in  the  evening, 
and  the  resting  and  dressing  for  it  will  keep  us 
girls  busy,  while  you  men  are  up  town." 

Paul   answered   a   respectful    "  Yes." 

"Then,  there  is  Friday  night  at  church.  Of 
course  we  shall  all  want  to  go  there." 

"Yes,   certainly." 

"Then  there  is  Saturday  night  and  our  baked 
beans  and  brown-bread,  —  home  night:  papa  in- 
sists on  that ;  and,  indeed,  we  are  very  happy. 
Then  Sunday,  and  you  should  go  hear  —  let  me 
see,"  and  she  ran  over,  with  perfect  familiarity 
and  a  touch  of  local  pride,  the  names  of  the 
"best  preachers." 

"Yes,  certainly,"  Paul  repeated,  in  a  mechani- 
cal way ;  and  Clara  shrugged  herself  into  closer 
wrapping,  all  nervous  chill. 

"  But  you  must  stay  longer,"  Cousin  Fidelia 
resumed.  "Why,  we  could  use  every  night  next 
week  and  repeatedly  see  or  hear  something  new"; 
which  she  proved  by  calling  off  the  names  of 
lecturers,  actors,  and  artists,  in  various  lines, 
with  great  earnestness  and  with  almost  warm 
enconiums  on  some  of  them. 

To  which  there  being  scarce  much  of  any 
reply,  the  speaker  exclaimed  at  length, — 

"  Why,   you   two  simpletons !    I   do   believe  you 


108  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

are  both  overcome  with  dear,  delightful,  old 
Gounod !  You,  you  pretty  clear,"  with  a  little 
shake  of  Clara  at  her  side ;  "  I  '11  put  you  straight 
to  bed,  as  soon  as  we  get  home !  Talk  about 
your  living  here,  you  poetess  !  Our  society  would 
kill  you  in  a  season ;  or  else  you  'd  get  hardened 
— as  I  have." 

Clara  managed  to  chatter  out  a  pretty  laugh 
through  her  teeth,  which  were  pearls,  and  the 
other's  envy. 

"It  is  high  time  this  house  was  still!"  Such 
greeting  from  benignant  William  Norcross,  trying 
to  be  stern,  with  a  mock  severity,  as  he  faced 
them,  shaking  his  Church  Advocate  in  one  hand 
and  his  eye-glasses  in  the  other.  At  the  foot 
of  the  broad  stairs  he  stood,  saying,  "  Shoo ! 
Shoo ! "  to  this  young  flock,  and  amid  a  shower 
of  kisses,  repeating,  as  he  laughed,  "  Yes,  yes ; 
let  the  house  be  still." 

It  is  still.  The  small  hours  draw  on.  The 
house  is  asleep ;  the  chambers  are  each  asleep ; 
the  streets  without  are  asleep ;  the  lamps  along 
the  broad  thoroughfares  seem  ready  to  go  to 
sleep,  if  they  only  dared. 

Clara  Norcross  is  not  asleep.  She  is  thinking 
"  He  surely  is  mine.  I  should  die  without  him. 
But  how  different  he  is  from  all  other  young 


A  SERIOUS  QUESTION. 


men  of  my  acquaintance.  At  the  opera  he  is 
all  aflame  to  preach.  At  our  village  church  up 
home,  he  is  so  fretted  and  rebellious,  that  he 
asserts  he  never  could  work  with  such  conten- 
tious people.  We  were  to  do  good  in  any  other 
way,  any  of  ten  thousands.  Strange.  He  is 
like  the  rock  in  the  pasture-stream,  by  which 
we  love  to  sit.  Can  I  follow  him,  whatever 
course  ?  Can  I  live,  if  I  do  not  ?  " 

Puss  Norcross  is  asleep.  She  is  dreaming  out 
what  she  could  make  of  a  fine  fellow  with  such 
talents,  if  he  were  only  submissive  to  her. 

Paul  Havens  is  not  asleep.  He  is  sitting  by 
his  chamber  window.  He  gazes  out  on  the 
silent  city,  stretching  far  away  on  every  side. 
It  .seemed  like  that  dark  world  in  which  he 
was  agonizing  to  find  his  fit  and  lawful  place 
to  work.  The  miles  of  blinking  lamps,  the 
flush  upon  the  sky  over  the  distant  portions  of 
towns  where  clouds  were  hovering,  from  which 
the  call  of  an  occasional  loiterer  or  rumble  of  a 
wandering  vehicle;  these  were  types  to  him  of 
his  confusion  of  mind,  the  dim  night  wherein 
he  was  picking  out  his  way. 

The  solemn  notes  of  a  steeple  clock,  from 
out  that  spire  which  reached  up  in  the  som- 
ber sky  before  him,  made  him  start. 


HO  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Great  God !  Do  all  young  hearts  find  it  so 
hard  to  know  which  way  to  go  ?  Or  is  it  my 
intractable  self?  What  shall  I  say,  when,  to- 
morrow, they  talk  business  with  me  ?  And 
what  is  Clara  going  to  say,  —  after  she  has 
slept  ?  Hast  thou  no  help  for  me  ? "  And  his 
prayer  wrestled  wearily  with  its  load. 


IN  THE  COUNTING-ROOM.  Ill 


VI. 

IN  THE  COUNTING-ROOM. 

t  C  "\7OTJ  may  as  well  go  up  to  the  store  with 
-*-  us,  Paul,  this  morning,  now  that  you  are 
here,"  said  Mr.  Lemuel  Norcross,  after  the  family 
breakfast. 

"  You  will  get  a  knowledge  of  the  streets 
that  lead  thither,  but  not  much  more."  remarked 
Mr.  William,  evidently  inclined  to  excuse  him 
to  the  young  ladies. 

"  Havens  will  be  at  the  factories  with  me, 
Bill,  as  I  explained,"  said  Mr.  Lemuel.  "My 
idea  was,  when  he  and  Clara  shall  have  re- 
turned —  he  '11  graduate  and  that  will  give  them 
a  month  for  Paris, — fun  before  work,  —  eh? 
When  you  and  I  are  dead  and  gone,  Bill,  it 
will  be  Havens  at  Crosston,  and  your  Andrew 
here.  Still  Paul  Havens  needs  to  know  a 
mighty  deal  that  he  do  n't  yet  know,  —  about 
this  office.  Know !  What  do  you  know,  my 
boy  ? "  with  a  clap  on  the  back.  Lemuel  Nor- 
cross rarely,  of  late  years,  grew  hilarious  except 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


over  busines.  "  Come.  On  with  your  coat, 
young  fellow.  Let  's  be  off  !  " 

Clara  was  prepared  to  hear  Paul  say,  '"I  shall 
never  go.  I  have  no  purpose  to  learn."  Indeed, 
she  turned  white  with  fear  of  her  father's  inopor- 
tune  outburst.  She  had  resolved,  all  in  a  mo- 
ment, to  fly  at  her  father  and  try,  with  the  tyr- 
anny that  she  had  never  yet  failed  to  exert,  what 
a  passion  of  petitions  could  do.  Had  Paul  Ha- 
vens said  it,  Clara  Norcross  would  have  said, 
"  I  will  follow  Paul,  papa  !  "  The  woman  of  it. 
That  was  the  resolve  that  came  out  of  her  night, 
counting  the  strokes  of  the  steeple  clock. 

But  Paul  Havens  did  not  say  it.  That  was 
the  man  of  it,  as  hers  had  been  the  woman  of 
it.  Well,  partly  so;  but  better  say  that  was  the 
minister  of  it.  Jonah  strove  hard  against  the 
Nineveh  journey.  Who  has  written,  or  can  write 
out,  the  changeful  struggle  through  which  some 
preachers  come  to  final  peace  by  obedience  ? 
Try  it,  ye  mental  philosophers  ;  here  is  a  prob- 
lem for  you.  Describe  it  :  "  Woe  is  me,  if  I 
preach  not  the  Gospel  !  "  Describe  it  :  "I  will 
not  !  I  dare  not  !  I  wiH  be  rich  !  I  will  be 
free  !  I  have  no  patience  with  men.  I  am  not 
unselfish  enough." 

Strange.      In    a    night's    rest    it    had    returned, 


IN  THE  CCUNTING-RQOM.  113 

the  old  self-will.  Paul  did  not  even  look  towards 
Clara.  He  replied,  very  submissively,  "Very  well, 
gentlemen,  take  me  along,  and  show  me  where 
—  where  you  make  your  money  at  this  end  of 
the  line."  Still  vacillating,  for  he  did  not  say, 
"  where  I  'm  to  work."  Then  he  ventured  to  turn 
his  eyes  on  Clara. 

Poor  child,  she  stood  in  a  sort  of  daze.  Was 
there  any  changeful  shadow  of  dis-esteem  deep- 
ening into  contempt  in  her  great  eyes  ?  No, 
Paul  Havens,  not  a  shadow.  Still  it  was  not  a 
happy  look  that  she  gave  you  ;  a  most  distressed 
and  confused,  rather.  After  you  are  gone,  she 
will  fly  up-stairs  and  shut  herself  in  her  room. 
There  will  come  an  unbending  of  the  heroic 
resolution  she  had  taken,  all  in  love  for  you. 
She  will  be  glad  again  ;  she  will  jump  again  at 
the  conclusion  that  you  are  not  to  be  a  clergy- 
man, after  all.  She  will  wonder  at  her  own 
somersaults  of  determination,  yet  will  perform 
them  easily,  child  of  luxury,  by  the  help  of  her 
love  for  you. 

But  to  what  a  wrenching,  to  what  a  violence, 
you  are  subjecting  this,  young  heart,  sir.  Will 
there  be  any  truth  left  to  her,  following  you  to 
and  fro  of  your  "  duty "  ?  Beware  of  that,  sir. 
You  have  this  trustful  soul  in  your  hands. 


114  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Spoil  it  ?  Have  a  care.  Will  you  teach  your  fu- 
ture wife  to  obey  God,  or  defy  him  ?  Another  agony ! 

Still,  happy  child,  she  found  a  way  out  for 
him.  She  was  saying  all  the  day,  to  herself,  as 
she  and  her  cousins  were  shopping  about  Tre- 
mont  and  Washington  Streets,  or  lunching,  or 
dreaming  at  the  window,  saying  all  the  day  to 
herself,  whatever  she  was  saying  audibly  to 
others,  — 

"  I  am  watching  my  hero ;  he  goes  to  battle ; 
I  wait ;  I  will  share  his  fortunes  ;  strange  battles 
are  his ;  not  many  can  ever  see  his  sword 
drawn ;  his  mother  and  father  and  I  can  see 
him  fighting  such  a  battle  !  I  love  him  ! " 

Paul  Havens  should  have  confided  to  her  all 
his  struggle.  Her  trustful  face  invited  it  each 
afternoon,  as  he  returned  from  the  great  store 
with  Andrew,  for  the  balance  of  the  day  with 
the  ladies. 

But  Havens  feared  to  hurt  her  childlike  faith. 
He  had  himself  inducted  her  into  that  faith ; 
he  had  preached  to  her  the  religion  of  the 
Cross.  Then,  too,  he  found  himself  actually 
dreading  her  withdrawal  .of  an  almost  reverent 
trust  in  himself ;  she  would  think  him  vacillat- 
ing. He,  vacillating  ?  He,  who  could  go  through 
fire  and  flood  —  if  only  he  could  once  be  let  go ! 


IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM. 


Instead  of  trusting  her,  he  contented  himself 
with  loving  her  with  a  devotion  that  was  ex- 
pressed in  every  word,  and  in  every  attention 
of  these  happy  days.  There  were  many  of  these 
days.  The  vacation  got  lengthened  ;  Paul  ran  up 
to  college  for  a  week,  and  then  back  again  ;  he 
shouldered  the  easy  senior  studies  along  by 
"  make-ups,"  and  managed  to  plan  out  the 
month  of  January,  off  and  on,  in  the  city. 

"  We  must  have  you,  you  know,  at  the  store 
just  now."  Mr.  Lemuel  Norcross  insisted, 
though  he  let  him  off  good  naturedly  every  after- 
noon to  the  sleighing  and  the  other  festivities. 

Not  daring  to  thrust  his  doubts  on  Clara, 
Paul  did  a  worse  thing.  He  confided  in  Puss. 
Somehow  it  came  about.  He  had  frankly  told 
the  latter. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  into  business,  to  please 
Clara  and  my  mother,  —  and,  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  be  able  to  add,  myself." 

"  You  do  n't  include  your  good  father,"  Puss 
replied,  and  saw  it  all  in  a  flash,  this  brilliant 
woman.  They  were  sitting  in  the  music-room 
one  evening,  awaiting  the  return  of  Clara  and  her 
father  from  some  "  shopping  for  poor  mamma, 
up  there  in  the  country."  Puss  had  been  wishing 
for  the  chance  to  play  to  him,  and  had  had  it 


Il6  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

for  over  an  hour  of  splencled  performances  on 
piano  and  organ.  Music  unlocked  Paul  Havens' 
confidences  always ;  as  it  does  our  air-castles 
and  gives  the  birds  wing,  reader.  As  the  two 
retired  to  the  library  and  got  places  before  the 
cozy  grate,  Paul  grew  confidential  at  once. 
Then,  too,  his  idea  was  to  make  a  sieve  of 
this  mature  female  mind,  sift  his  hurtful  doubts 
through  it  not  harming  4  the  fine  steel  sieve,  of 
of  course,  and  trusting  that  the  sieve  would 
give  the  grain  to  Clara.  She  would  explain  him 
to  Clara.  The  idea !  But  then,  that  shows  you 
what  sort  of  sentiments  he  entertained  towards 
Puss.  Innocent  enough  of  any  thing  forbidden. 

Puss  was  all  grace  and  pity  at  once.  No 
vulgar  pity ;  oh  no ;  but  that  exquisite  com- 
passion of  a  bright  and  understanding  woman 
for  your  mental  woes.  She  was  the  very  im- 
personation of  elegance  in  her  personal  contact 
with  you.  You  would  feel  the  spell  of  it,  to 
see  her  fluttered  down  into  the  great  chair  just 
opposite  you,  and  all  delightful  attention,  languid 
hands,  drooping,  eyes  beaming,  respectful,  differ- 
ential, your  obedient  servant. 

"  No.  My  father  is  of  another  mind.  But 

the  church  is "  and,  as  he  hesitated,  she 

helped  him  right  out  with,  — 


IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM. 


"  You   have   had   a   call   to   preach  ?  " 

Paul  started.  But  there  was  such  a  peculiar 
smile  upon  her  features  that  he  asked, 

"Do   you   believe   in   the    Divine   Call?" 

"Well,"  she  replied,  ingenuous  at  once,  "that's 
a  term  elderly  church  people  use.  Papa,  now, 
thinks  his  pastor  has  heard  Heaven  speak  in  a 
certain  unmistakable,  mentally  perceived  voice, 
directing  him  to  holy  things.  He  reveres  his 
pastor  as  the  Lord's  anointed." 

"  Oh  what  a  holy  life  the  pastor  of  such  a 
man  ought  to  lead  !  "  exclaimed  Paul.  "  Think 
of  a  churchful  of  such  trustful  souls  looking  into 
a  man's  face!  It  shoulel  cleanse  him  to  the 
very  core  !  And  inspire  him,  too  !  " 

"But,"  she  resumed,  quite  willing  to  delve 
into  psychological  or  theological  depths,  and 
charmingly  animated,  "  but  I  think  we  younger 
people  regard  the  ministry  as  a  profession, 
chosen  on  grounds  of  adaptation.  We  claim 
the  right  to  view  a  preacher  identically  as  we 
do  an  artist,  an  attorney,  or  a  physician.  Can 
he  please,  is  he  aesthetic,  is  he  scholarly,  does 
he  minister  to  our  moral  and  intellectual  cul- 
ture?" 

"  Therefore,  God  help  me,  I  will  never  stand 
in  the  pulpit  for  your  generation.  I  am  absolved. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


If  I  have  ever  been  called,  I  am  excused  by 
the  fact  that  the  people  of  the  church  in  my 
time  recognize  no  such  call.  That  is  what 
is  coming.  Then  the  preacher  is  a  mere 
public  servant,  in  the  most  harrowing  and  critical 
service  on  God's  earth  !  " 

"  You  kindle,  Mr.  Havens,"  she  said,  growing 
calm  herself  at  once  and  delighted  that  she  had 
by  so  much  the  mastery  of  this  outspoken  giant. 
"Times  are  changed,  you  know  full  well.  The 
church  is  no  longer  doctrinal  ;  it  is  social  ;  it 
is  sesthetical  ;  it  affords  an  opportunity  for 
ethical  activity.  These  are  the  laity's  uses. 
Your  uses,  sir,  of  the  church  would  be  a  com- 
mand of  men,  a  ladder  of  fame,  a  mastery  over 
your  times,  the  companionship  with  the  most 
elegant  people  of  this  city,  for  instance." 

"  What  !    and   no   doctrines  ?  " 

"  Believe   what  is  truth   to   you,   of  course." 

"  Yes,  and  the  torture  of  it  !  To  be  held  fast 
to  doctrine  by  the  old,  and  to  be  held  fast  to 
aesthetics  by  the  young  !  Mostly,  not  what  you 
say,  but  how  you  say  it  !  "  This  also  very  ve- 
hemently. 

"  Have   you   a   message  ?  "  very  calmly. 

"  Some  direct  truth  to  speak  to  my  fellow- 
men,  do  you  mean,  Miss  Norcross  ?  Indeed,  I 


IN  THE  COUNTING-ROOM.  I  19 

hope  I  have  —  or  should  have,  if  I  were  to 
undertake  it." 

"What    now?" 

"I  would  have  liked  to  tell  the  poor  world's 
Margarets  and  Fausts,  the  way  better  than  de- 
spair; of  the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the 
sins  of  the  world  !  " 

She  looked  upon  him  with  a  single  ejaculation 
only  on  her  lips.  "  The  opera  night !  "  He  had 
risen  to  his  feet.  His  imposing  presence,  his  rich 
tones,  his  handsome  young  face  glowing  with  emo- 
tion from  the  pent-up  passion  of  many  days  of 
silence  on  this  awful  theme  of  his  thoughts,  these 
with  her  own  self-acknowledged  approval  of  him, 
made  Paul  Havens  stand  forth,  at  last,  Fidelia 
Norcross'  long  sought  ideal.  She  clasped  her 
long  fingers  before  her.  Her  really  fine  eyes 
grew  large  in  unconscious  admiration.  She  was  re- 
solved. She  spoke  with  sudden  and  intense  fervor. 

"  Preach,    sir  !     Preach   that,   if  you   will  ?  " 

"  Miss  Norcross,  do  you  believe  in  that  hope 
by  Christ?" 

"I  —  I  —  could*  believe  any  thing  that  you 
preached  !  " 

"That?" 

"What?"     "How?" 

"Do  you  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  can  save  sad 


120  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

souls  —  save  Gretchen  ?  Save  Faust,  even,  sold 
to  the  devil  ?  Save  the  bad  hearts  of  your 
North  End  Mission  ? "  He  stood  before  her, 
quivering. 

"  You  greatly  move  me,  sir.  Your  ideas  are 
majestic.  I  say  to  you  that  you  can  not  remain 
in  obscurity  —  the  whole  city  would  come  to  hear 
and  heed  a  man  whose  soul  was  under  such  sub- 
jection to  an  idea!  We  do  not  see  men  in  agony 
over  any  truth,  in  our " 

"  Agony,  Miss  Norcross !  Sometimes  I  am  in 
agony  because  I  fear  /  dorit  believe  it!" 

"  Oh  sir,  say  not  so ! "  It  was  a  genuine  com- 
passion that  uttered  that  cry.  Not  that  this  girl, 
all  devoted  to  ambition,  understood  him.  No ; 
not  as  well  as  sweet,  simple  Clara  Norcross 
would.  But  that  he  thought  she  might,  if  he 
tried  again. 

"  You  mistake  me  ! "  he  said.  "  If  you  will  in- 
dulge me,  I  do  n't  care  a  rush  for  the  renown  of 
it.  It  is  not  ambition.  That  must  not  be  the 
motive !" 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said,  seeing  her  mistake.  "I 
thought  out  loud  when  I  exclaimed  about  the 
whole  city  heeding  you." 

"  Now,  then,  please  hear  me  again,"  he  '  re- 
sumed almost  pleadingly.  "There  are  times  when 


IN  THE  COUNTING-ROOM.  121 

my  very  soul  is  on  fire  to  proffer  this  Christ-care 
to  the  suffering  world."  He  stopped  short. 

"Yes.  It  is  papa's  doctrine.  The  old-fashioned 
doctrine."  She  spoke  eagerly,  and  leaning  forward. 

"Then  there  are  hours,  alas,  when  I  doubt  the 
very  truth  itself !"  Again  pausing 

"  Because   you   do   not   obey." 

"  Which  is  good  mental  philosophy,  you  keen 
reader  of  mind,"  he  added.  "Then,  at  other 
times,  this  plentiful,  peaceful  career  in  silk  weav- 
ing offers  itself." 

"  Which  you  will  not  find  peaceful,  sir,"  she 
responded. 

"  Miss  Norcross,  could  you  tell  your  cousin, 
after  this,  that  I  was  yet  worthy  of  her  love?" 

It  came  so  suddenly,  this  unmasking  of  his 
real  purpose.  For  a  moment,  she  was  silent. 
It  needed  a  moment  to  recover  her  self-possession. 
But,  quick,  Puss  Norcross  was  self-possessed 
again.  She  began  to  discuss  the  theological  point. 
And  this  half-wild  fellow  did  not  detect  the  eva- 
sion. He  fell  into  her  line.  After  a  little,  he 
yielded  and  talked  welcome  doubts  with  her.  He 
almost  forgot  Clara  for  the  next  half  hour. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  time,  those  days,  that 
his  confused  mind  rested  itself  in  the  sympa- 
thizing discussion  of  doctrines.  For  Puss  Nor- 


122  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

cross  grew  rapidly  ardent  in  her  attachment  for 
him.  But  she  was  shut  up  to  a  queer  sort  of 
love  making  on  her  part,  —  namely,  interviews  for 
theological  discussion. 

Her  ardor  grew  by  the  very  hopelessness  of 
her  case.  She  saw  his  affection  for  the  other 
young  creature  at  every  turn  of  her  eyes.  He 
was  perfectly  frank ;  he  was  transparently  hon- 
est ;  except  that  she  saw  that  he  did  not  trust 
Clara  with  the  secret  of  his  own  mental  woes. 

But  Puss  Norcross  was  of  that  model  that  is 
wonderfully  excited  to  exertion  by  obstacles. 
She  began  to  read  all  the  prevalent  doubts  and 
its  refutation,  that  she  could  find  in  the  libra- 
ries, and  showed  herself  capable  of  finding  more 
of  this  hard  reading,  or  passages  that  she 
thought  she  wanted,  than  most  ladies  who  search 
those  famous  Boston  alcoves. 

"  Loan  him  to  me  for  a  half  hour,  Clara," 
she  would  say,  when  the  family  were  assembled 
for  the  afternoon  chats  on  nothings.  "  We  have 
a  knotty  question  about  inspiration.  See?"  and 
sheT  would  hold  up  some  new  book. 

"  An  hour  if  you  want  him  for  such  uses," 
Clara  generally  responded,  for  her  heart  was  so 
sure  of  him.  And  in  all  these  recent  days  Paul 
Havens  had  never  once  recurred  to  the  one  dread 


IN  THE*  COUNTING-ROOM.  123 

question  of  the  ministry.  Indeed,  he  had  shown 
himself  an  assiduous  student  of  business,  going 
with  the  gentlemen  every  morning  to  the  store. 
It  was  fully  understood  here,  at  distant  Cross- 
ton,  and  at  the  college,  that  this  was  his  lawful 
excuse  for  so  prolonged  a  visit  to  the  city. 

"  We  know  now  imperiously  impatient  Lemuel 
Norcross  is,"  Paul's  mother  had  remarked  over 
the  situation  as  the  son  still  wrote  "from  Bos- 
ton and  the  store." 

"  Yes,  that  we  do ! "  sighed  the  pastor,  keep- 
ing his  secret  from  the  invalid  and  wondering 
what  it  would  all  come  to.  The  one  was  glad, 
the  other  sad,  as  they  sat  about  the  evening 
fire  of  logs  in  the  distant  hill  country  parsonage, 
these  winter  nights. 

Paul  and  Puss  talking  doctrines  in  the  draw- 
ing-room evening  by  evening;  Clara  trying  to  be 
patient  with  the  small  talk  of  Minnie,  Andrew, 
and  her  aunt  in  the  library.  Clara  could  not 
help  being  reassured  by  the  prosy  business  con- 
versation of  her  father  and  uncle.  Good,  obedient 
Mr.  William  submitted,  as  he  always  had  to 
when  his  brother  was  in  town,  to  the  bringing 
the  shop  into  the  home.  Clara  heard  it  often 
with  a  quick  and  pleased  ear. 

"  Havens    takes    to    it    very    rapidly,    Bill ;   you 


124  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

must  confess  that  I  have  made  no  mistake  in 
the  boy." 

To  which  her  uncle  would  respond,  "  Yes 
Lem,  your  success  in  selecting  other  men  to 
carry  out  your  plans  has  always  been  remark- 
able." 

"A  mighty  bright  fellow,  this  Paul!"  This 
her  father. 

Or  it  was  some  snatch  of  a  plan,  sweet  to 
her  as  a  song,  in  which  Paul's  name  was  woven 
with  Marseilles,  or  Paris,  or  the  Crosston  factory, 
by  the  silken  cords  of  the  business. 

"  He  is  fighting  his  battle  to  such  a  victory 
as  will  please  me,"  she  would  say  to  herself. 
And  often,  if,  on  her  pillow  at  night,  she  had 
come  to  resolve  "I  will  ask  him,  frankly,  in 
the  morning ;  I  must  know,"  why,  the  two  coupe's 
the  next  morning,  that  rattled  him  off  with  the 
other  gentlemen  direct  from  breakfast,  reassured 
her. 

It  is  curious,  but  true,  that  many  women  live 
as  loving  wives,  and  beloved,  yet,  under  a  half 
fear  (is  it  fear?),  refrain  from  asking  their  good 
men  some  questions  that  they  would  give  the 
world  to  have  answered  without  the  asking. 
Clara  hoped,  and  took  Hope's  answer.  Who  has 
not  ?  The  memory  of  former  interviews,  more- 


IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM.  12$ 

over,  in  the  Crosston  mansion,  in  which  she  had 
seen  something  of  his  strife  of  mind,  was  to 
this  happy  girl  terrible.  She  could  not  endure 
to  have  the  scenes  repeated.  Those  conversations 
had  wrought  her  to  such  pitch  of  excitement ; 
they  had  made  life  seem  so  dark.  She  preferred 
to  live  in  the  sunshine.  Selfishly  ?  No,  if  you 
consider  her  indulged  life ;  nor,  again,  if  you 
remember  that  the  sight  of  his  distress  was  her 
most  potent  distress.  To  many  women  the  hus- 
band is  prophet,  priest,  and  king, —  that  is,  if 
he  is  wise  enough,  good  enough,  and  great 
enough.  Clara  gave  Paul  this  triple  crown  over 
herself ;  and  she  would  doubtless  have  confessed, 
though  she  had  hardly  so  worded  it  to  herself 
unaided,  that  the  sight  of  her  lord  disputing  his 
duty  was  too  sad  to  look  upon.  Her  heart  said, 
what  many  another  woman's  has :  "  My  hero 
knows  best.  He  will  do  right  ;  he  is  doing 
right  every  day."  She  felt  this  sentiment  un- 
mistakably when,  one  evening,  as  his  custom  was, 
her  uncle  had  asked,  as  he  closed  the  Bible 
reading, — 

"  Lem,   shall  we   be   led    by   you   in    prayer?" 
Her    father    had    turned    to    Paul,    passing    the 
compliment   on  to  him,  and   quite   willing,    by   the 
way,    to   show   off    this   added    accomplishment   of 


126  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

the  young  partner  before  his  brother,  "  Paul, 
you  take  my  place." 

This  Paul  had  done  in  the  truest  and  most 
reverent  spirit.  There  are  public  prayers  and 
public  prayers.  But  this  was  so  natural,  so  sin- 
cere, so  simple  in  its  requests,  and  so  rich  in 
its  diction.  Clara  thought  how  much  like  £he 
Scripture  prayers  it  sounded  ;  as  well  it  might, 
and  all  public  prayers  ought,  for  it  abounded  in 
Scripture,  and  was  modeled  on.  these  model 
prayers. 

"  He  is  my  priest ! "  she  said.  She  thrilled 
with  his  tones.  He  seemed  to  lift  her  soul 
to  God.  Hoping  for  him,  fearing  for  him 
at  first,  and  almost  grieved  by  her  father's  cold 
tones,  she  lost  her  solicitude  in  self-forgetful- 
ness,  and  forgetfulness  of  all  else  but  him  who 
was  addressed.  She  had  never  till  that  evening, 
heard  Paul's  voice  in  prayer.  Do  you  remem- 
ber such  an  occasion,  reader?  The  first  time 
you  heard  your  father  at  the  family  altar  just 
set  up?  A  husband's, —  a  lover's  first  audible 
penitence  and  petition  to  heaven  ?  Then  you  can 
understand  Clara,  as  she  found  herself  in  tears. 

"  He  is  my  priest,"  she  had  said  again,  as 
she  got  upon  her  feet  and  went  out  of  the 
room  for  a  little  to  recover  her  calm. 


IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM. 


Therefore,  no  questions  ;  Paul  will  do  right. 
Paul  sees  his  way  clear  to  be  a  merchant. 
Puss  can  have  him  in  the  parlor,  discussing 
modern  doubts,  all  she  wishes.  Puss  is  deceived  ; 
she  has  not  yet  found  her  clergyman. 

But  Puss,  in  that  next  room  that  final  evening, 
later  on  when  Paul's  visit  ended,  was  content. 
She  always  assumed  the  posture  of  inquiring  skep- 
ticism. She  simply  acted  on  the  resolution,  "  I  '11 
not  let  silk  and  finance  fill  all  his  mind.  He 
shall  be  daily  excited  with  these  other  themes." 
To  a  mind  like  Paul  Havens'  nothing  fixed  be- 
lief like  the  doubt  that  attacked  it. 

"  I  am  preaching  to  you,  here,  evening  after 
evening,"  he  said  to  Puss,  with  a  laugh. 

"You  are  in  good  practice,  and  coming  on," 
she  quietly  replied. 

"  I  confess  that  your  conversations  have  greatly 
stimulated  me,  Miss  Norcross." 

"  Think  of  thousands,  instead  of  one  !  "  she  an- 
swered; which  reply  turned  him  off  the  track  of 
observation,  or  he  must  have  seen  the  quick  flush 
in  her  face.  She  was  wise  enough  to  know  how 
intense  is  the  interest  that  is  kindled  by  religious 
conversation.  After  all,  theological  discussion  is 
not  a  bad  vehicle  for  lovers  to  take  their  early 
rides  in.  He  had,  indeed,  become  much  more  in- 


128  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

terested  in  her  than  he  knew  himself.  And  trust 
her  to  detect  it. 

Neither  was  she  playing  a  part.  His  doubts 
had  actually  injured  her.  She  said : 

"  I  fear  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  be  a  father 
confessor  to  you.  I  suppose  I  never  had  much 
religion  at  any  time  ;  it  has  been  a  mere,  benev- 
olence, a  thing  of  taste  and  intellectual  culture 
with  me._  Oh,  sir,  it  seems  a  fearful  thing  to  me, 
that  one  so  gifted  as  you  are,  and  believing  as  I 
am  convinced  you  do,  should  dare  go  and  make 
money  and  leave  this  suffering  world  untaught." 

"You  give  me  pain,"  he  said.  "Am  I,  then, 
to  confide  in  no  one,  but  I  stab  the  kind  heart 
that  welcomes  me?" 

"  Because,  sir,  you  seem  to  us  one  of  those  few 
strong  fellow-creatures  born  to  keep  us  all,  not 
to  hinder  or  be  helped." 

"  God  help  me,  I  '11  not  hinder  you,  my  kind 
friend,"  he  added  with  decided  feeling.  Then  he 
fell  to  work  with  a  will,  to  unsay  all  that  he  had 
ever  expressed  of  unbelief.  He  grew  eloquent  in 
his  advocacy  of  the  truth.  He  refuted  error  for 
her,  question  after  question.  He  asserted  dogma 
after  dogma.  She  listened  under  a  spell.  He 
spoke  from  the  heart.  At  length,  in  a  pause, 
she  thrust  at  him, — 


IN  THE  COUNTING-ROOM. 


"Sir,    you   will   never   weave   a   yard    of    silk!" 

He  got  upon  his  feet,  and  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment speechless,  while  the  emotion  engendered 
by  his  burning  evangel,  completely  mastered  him. 
Wonderful  emotion  that  !  The  thrilling  delight 
that  comes  from  proclaiming  the  truths  of  God  ! 
Is  there  any  other  joy  like  it?  Is  there  any 
other  passion  of  the  soul  so  great  and  high  as 
that  which  surges,  like  a  rushing,  mighty  wind, 
through  the  Christian  heart  just  after  it  has  ut- 
tered its  belief  into  some  ear  that  was  heavy 
with  unbelief  ?  And  is  there  any  other  look  on 
human  face  like  that  look  ;  eager,  catching  at 
every  word  ;  submissive,  even  to  a  positive  en- 
slaving by  the  welcome  truth,  after  despairing 
doubt  ;  a  look  of  one  made  glad  beyond  all 
hoped-for  gladness,  which  this  most  intelligent 
woman  had  been  bending  on  him  ?  Clara  Nor- 
cross  might  have  seen  that  look  of  faith  and 
felt  no  pang  of  jealousy. 

Loving  Clara  Norcross  with  all  his  heart,  yet 
Paul's  interest  in  this  other  woman,  whose  relig- 
ious life  he  had  cruelly  imperilled  and  was  now 
trying  to  rescue,  was,  for  the  moment,  unspeak- 
able. He  said,  — 

"  Miss  Norcross,  I  have  now  done  my  best  to 
undo  the  harm  I  have  inflicted  by  my  frankly 


13°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

expressed  disputes  with  my  duty  to  preach. 
Understand,  now  and  finally,  that,  whatever  I 
may  do,  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament  is 
true  and  firm  as  the  hills  of  God  !  I  shall 
never  resume  the  rehearsal  of  my  woes  to  you,  or 
any  other  mortal  —  unless  it  be  to  my  own  father. 
I  have  never  yet  found  a  human  being  whom  the 
story  of  my  debate  with  duty  did  not  harm.  It 
seems  like  poison.  God  help  you  to  believe,  as, 
God  witness,  I  do  believe ! "  He  turned  to  re- 
enter  the  library, 

"•One  moment ! "  She  actually  ventured  to 
catch  at  his  hand. 

"  Well,  dear  lady,  say  on,"  he  replied,  yield- 
ing his  hand  heartily,  —  indeed  proffering  it,  to 
relieve  her  of  seeming  to  herself  indelicate. 

"  For  all  that,  you  yet  will  do  yourself  this 
great  wrong  and  dislike  ?  Oh,  sir,  for  the  good 
you  have  done  me,  let  my  gratitude  take  the 
shape  of  exhortation.  Turn  your  back  on  this 
money-making  !  Live'  the  truth  ! " 

For  a  moment  he  cast  his  eyes  down  at  their 
two  clasped  hands.  He  raised  his  free  hand 
once  to  his  breast,  then  let  it  fall  irresolute. 
Then,  suddenly  decided,  he  took  out  a  letter  from 
the  pocket  his  hand  had  sought. 

"  Miss  Norcross,  I    wish   to   retain  your  esteem. 


IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM. 


I  will  show  you  this  letter  ;  that  is  the  very 
latest  and  final  word  of  explanation  which  I  will 
make,  to  man  or  woman,  for  my  proposed  con- 
duct. Read  what  my  mother  says  ;  then  tell  me, 
if  you  can,  I  may  not  go  make  money  and  build 
for  her  and  my  father  a  home." 

The  letter:  "  My  mind  is  never  without  your 
image,  my  son  ;  my  lips  are  rarely  without  a 
prayer  for  you,  our  hope,  our  precious  one,  these 
days.  The  two  months  since  your  return  have 
seemed  the  longest  of  all  your  nearly  four  years' 
absence  from  us.  Need  I  say,  they  have  been 
the  most  anxious  for  poor  mother's  head  and 
heart  ?  For  you  are  now  with  your  strong 
young  foot  upon  the  very  threshold  of  life's  real 
work.  Papa  tells  me,  every  day,  something  of 
his  own  memories  of  the  trembling,  eager,  last 
days  of  college.  I  ask  him  all  about  it,  that  I, 
a  woman,  may  know  just  how  to  feel  for  you  ; 
that  I  may  be  your  confidante.  I  am,  am  I 
not? 

"  Speaking  of  papa,  I  can  see,  unmistakably, 
that  he  fails  in  strength.  Oh,  it  breaks  my  heart 
to  write  it,  but  he  looks  so  tired  !  He  thinks 
me  the  only  invalid.  Would  God  it  were  so  ! 
But  it  is  not.  He  is  older  than  a  year  ago  by 
five  years'  weariness.  The  church  is  restive  ; 


I32  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

the  congregation  talks  of  a  new  and  younger 
man,  especially  ever  since  we  got  into  this  ele- 
gant, new,  and  smarter  edifice.  If  it  were  not 
for  Mr.  Norcross'  iron  hand,  I  know  that  we 
could  not  stay  here.  Yet  it  seems  sacrilegious 
that  the  power  of  money  should  so  largely  enter 
into  the  control  of  the  church.  We,  papa  and 
I,  feel  the  chagrin  of  it  all  the  more  that  the 
money-power  is  in  our  favor  just  now.  Are  we 
hirelings  ? 

"  But  I  will  not  vex  you  with  troubles  with 
which  you  are  familiar  from  boyhood  —  and, 
thank  God !  are  soon  to  know  no  more.  I  was 
only  thinking  aloud  of  the  rest  that  poor  papa 
needs." 

"  The  other  portions,  Miss  Norcross,  are  im- 
material," said  Paul,  who  had  carefully  watched 
her  progress  over  the  two  neat  little  pages,  and 
now  reached  for  the  letter.  With  a  voice  almost 
hoarse  with  his  emotions,  he  said,  "  I  received 
that  letter  the  next  morning  after  my  visit  with 
you  to  the  opera.  Not  a  waking  hour,  but  some 
sentence  of  it  has  been  in  mind." 

"  I  have  often  heard  how  sweet  and  lovely 
your  parents  are,  sir,"  said  Puss.  But  what " 

"  Miss  Norcross,  that  weary  man  and  his  mar- 
tyr wife  are  going  to  have  rest !  Money  ?  Why, 


IN  THE   COUNTING-ROOM.  133 

that  man  has  toiled  for  thirty  years  amid  the 
churches,  and  given  us  bread  and  clothes.  But 
to-day  he  is  dependent  upon  the  month's  check 
that  Mr.  Norcross,  treasurer,  sends  him,  and  has 
not  a  penny  beside !  Money,  Miss  ?  I  tell  you, 
so  help  me  God !  that  that  man  shall  have  rest 
within  six  months,  and  a  long  rest,  too  !  The 
first  disbursement  that  I  make  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  that  is  to  be  placed  to  my  credit  on 
the  first  of  next  July  —  I  then  enter  this  co- 
partnership —  will  be  three  thousand  dollars  pay- 
able to  Sylvester  Havens  !  If  my  dear  mother, 
whom  may  Heaven  preserve,  is  able,  I  trust  that 
next  year  will  see  these  two,  herself  with  father, 
fancy  free  in  Europe.  Money !  Why,  I  could 
laugh  as  I  think  of  it." 

"But    your   mother   says   of   money " 

"That  it  is  a  profane  tyrant  in  the  church. 
But  this  is  not  in  the  church.  It  is  my  money. 
I  earn  it.  Why  may  ten  thousand  other  Chris- 
tians spend  all  their  lives  earning  it,  and  not  I,  and 
yet  be  a  Christian  ?  Not  for  self,  Miss  Norcross, 
but  for  the  good  I  can  do  with  it.  Why  not  ? 
That  is  the  strain  in  which  your  pious  Christian 
merchant,  sitting  in  the  pews,  reassures  himself. 
Why  not  I,  son  of  the  pulpit  ? " 

"  Because   of   some   possible   voice   from   heaven, 


134  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

sir,  that  says  to  you,  'Is  it  a  small  thing  that 
thou  shouldst  be  my  servant  ? ' ' 

"  You  —  woman  !  " 

"  Because,  if  you  put  your  father  and  mother 
between  you  and  duty,  God  may  give  them  an- 
other rest,  sir,  long  and  sweet,  I  doubt  not,  to 
them, —  a  rest  that  remaineth  to  the  people  of 
God." 

He  broke  from  her  as  if  she  had  struck  him, 
and  walked  towards  the  library.  The  Voice  had 
said  as  much  to  him,  but  no  mortal  voice  before 
had  spoken  it.  The  memory  of  the  clear,  delicate 
tones  of  this  woman's  voice  was  to  haunt  him  for 
many  a  day. 

As  for  the  speaker,  she  flew  off  up  to  her 
room,  in  a  whirl  of  excitement,  thinking  that  she 
should  never  have  said  it,  wondering  how  she 
came  to  think  of  it,  and  asserting  to  herself  over 
and  over  that  she  could  not  explain  to  herself 
why  she  had  so  spoken.  "  He  will  hate  me,  — 
impudent,  bold,  officious  !  " 

But  Paul  Havens  was  far  from  hating  the 
speaker  of  that  last  tremendous  warning.  Just 
the  contrary. 

Sweeping  across  her  room,  kicking  her  slippered 
feet  vengefully  against  her  stiff  brocade,  swirling 
her  train  as  she  turned  and  turned,  stamping  the 


IN  THE  COUNTING-ROOM.  135 

foot  upon  the  thick  carpet,  hands  clasped  in 
front,  then  behind,  this  stately  woman  would  have 
liked  to  inflict  some  penance  on  herself.  "  I  have 
spoiled  all  —  all !  "  with  vigorous  gesture.  "  What 
avail  now  to  whisper  to  my  father  that  his  pro- 
posed young  partner  can  have  no  heart  in  the 
business, — that  he  is  God's  messenger?  He  is 
fixed.  I  have  crystallized  his  disobedience.  Be- 
sides, if  it  were  not  so,  I  have  disgusted  him 
with  my  bold  ofiQciousness !"  Pacing,  pacing, 
weeping !  Yes,  with  high  excitement  and  chagrin. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


VII. 

BUILDING   A  MANSION. 

i  t  r  I  ^HIS  is  the  corner,"  exclaimed  Clara  Nor- 
-•-  cross,  touching  the  bell  to  halt  the 
coachman. 

"  Nothing  could  be  found  more  choice,  I  should 
say,"  responded  Paul  Havens.  "Take  that  present 
house  down,  I  suppose." 

"Oh,  certainly;  though  papa  laughed  at  what 
he  called  my  extravagant  notions.  He  said  that, 
in  the  bargain  for  the  property,  the  house  was 
valued  at  more  than  twenty  good  New  Hamp- 
shire farms." 

"Still,  if  it  is  your  idea  to  build  a  city  home, 
you  will  never  be  content  with  any  thing  but 
your  own  idea,  little  bird,  from  cellar  to  gable." 

"  Of  course  not.  Let 's  get  out.  The  snow  is 
very  hard,  like  sand,  indeed.  That 's  why  I  took 
the  carriage.  Yes,  I  have  rubbers,  you  dear  Mr. 
Caretaker.  Let 's  look  at  the  street  from  the 
windows."  And  she  had  fluttered  on  too  fast  for 
him  fairly  up  the  front  stoop  of  the  vacant 
dwelling. 


BUILDING  A   MANSION.  137 

"Why,  Clara,"   said   Paul,  "have   you  the  key?" 

"  Indeed,  I  have,  you  dear  boy,"  fumbling  at 
her  little  bag.  "No,  that's  the  deed,"  as  a 
long  paper  came  first  to  view.  "Here,  take  it. 
But  the  key,  the  key!  Oh,  here  it  is." 

Paul  opened  the  door  for  her  and  stepped  into 
the  echoing  hall.  She  flew  past  him  as  happy 
as  a  bird,  up  the  dusty  stairway,  in  at  the  first 
door,  to  the  front  windows,  throwing  wide  open 
the  blinds. 

"There!  light  of  day,  come  into  my  home! 
Hurrah ! "  she  exclaimed,  no  one  seeing  or  hear- 
ing but  Paul.  "  See !  away  there !  and  there ! 
and  there !  Will  it  not  be  a  cheerful  outlook, 
Paul  ?  Just  think  of  broad  windows,  higher,  larger 
than  these  old-fashioned  things.  The  workmen 
are  to  go  to  tearing  this  down  at  once.  Then  the 
building ;  all  ready  for  us  by  the  time  we  return 
from  Europe,  a  year  from  now ! " 

"Well,  you  child,"  said  Paul,  "if  you'll  give 
me  a  chance  to  edge  in  a  word,  when  did  you 
get  all  this  ?  Here 's  your  deed  thrust,  all 
crumpled,  into  this  bag,  your  key,  your  plan " 

"No,    the    plans    are   not   yet   drawn." 

".Well,    this    important   paper " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot ;  papa  said  I  was  to  hand 
it  to  you  the  first  thing  this  morning,  and 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


you  would  bring  it  down  to  the  office,  or  some- 
where."^ 

"How   did   you   get   it?" 

"  Papa  made  a  little  scene,  last  night,  and  for- 
mally handed  it  over  to  me,  while  you,  sir,"  — 
this  with  mock  reproach  and  some  gravity  not  all 
assumed  —  "were  in  that  wicked  parlor  having 
such  a  long  conference  with  that  mischief,  Puss  !  " 
She  gave  him  one  searching  look  with  her  brown 
eyes.  Then  she  broke  into  a  smiJe  of  perfect 
trust,  and  put  up  her  lips. 

Paul  laughed  aloud.  The  empty  chambers 
echoed  it  !  The  echo  was  not  pleasant  ;  and  the 
young  man  looked  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  half- 
expecting  to  see  some  one.  But,  instantly  recov- 
ering himself,  he  stooped  to  take  her  salutation, 
when  she  said,  — 

"  I  '11  withdraw  the  proffer,"  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  and  turning  her  head. 

"You  are  so  slow,  Paul  Havens,  this  happy 
morning.  But  no,  no.  I  forgot  ;  it  is  because 
you  go  back  to  that  dreadful  college  again  to- 
night. I  ought  to  be  sad,  too.  But  the  new 
house  is  such  an  idea."  Then  she  turned  her 
face  to  him  again. 

"  So   your   father   made   a   scene   over  it,    eh  ?  " 

"Yes.     Let's  look   at  —  what   do   you  call  it?  — 


BUILDING  A  MANSION,  139 

a  fee  simple  ?  The  paper !  I  never  saw  a  deed. 
Oh,  for  a  chair  —  two  chairs !  Here,  in  the  win- 
dow sill  and  the  morning  sun,  Paul." 

"  No,  happy  heart ;  you  '11  take  cold  here. 
You  should  have  read  your  deed  last  night.  I 
suppose  that 's  why  you  happen  to  have  it,  that 
you  might  read  it,  like  an  intelligent  girl.  I  '11 
take  care  of  it.  This  is  all  elegant  in  prospect. 
Hurrah,  say  I  !  " 

"  Paul ! " 

"What?" 

"  You  awake  such  dreadful  echoes  in  the  old 
shell ! "  she  said,  coming  close  up  to  him. 

Then  they  went  slowly  down,  out,  locked  the 
door,  she  •  talking  such  a  merry  ripple  all  the 
while,  and  he  happy  for  the  moment,  as  he 
always  was  when  in  the  presence  of  this  living 
sunbeam. 

"  Left  the  blinds  open,  just  like  a  man,"  she 
exclaimed,  clapping  her  hands. 

"You  can  shut  them  after  I  am  gone,"  said  he. 

"  Gone  ?  Yes,  but  you  '11  be  up  at  Crosston 
by  a  month  from  now.  Then  we  shall  be  to- 
gether again." 

Yes,   vacation    March   first." 

Wheels  of  carriages,  wheels  of  cars,  wheels  of 
time.  There  is  nothing  to  be  written  of  this 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


interval,  till  the  month  of  March,  but  of  the 
rolling  of  these  wheels.  The  wheels  that  rolled 
safely,  taking  Clara  and  her  father  back  to  the 
frozen,  glorious  North  ;  the  wheels  that  trundled 
Miss  Fidelia  Norcross  to  and  fro  of  church, 
mission,  opera,  theatre,  shopping,  and  society  ;  the 
wheels  that  took  Paul  Havens  to  his  books  again. 
These  movements  we  can  describe.  But  those 
other  wheels  which  run  the  clock-work  of  sharp 
Time,  and  pass  the  product  on  to  long  eternity, 
—  wheels  that  turn  softly  while  we  sleep,  while  we 
wake,  and  work,  and  forget  that  they  are  turn- 
ing ;  wheels  that  bring  the  weights  of  destiny 
to  the  ground  and  the  hour-hands  to  the 
moments  for  which  we  were  born  ;  wheels  that  we 
can  not  see,  that  mark  out  decisions  for  us,  and 
without  asking  our  consent;  —  who  can  tell  of 
these  ?  Paul  Havens  could  not  ;  he  was  busy 
with  studies.  He  had  chosen  his  life-work.  He 
had  told  his  final  choice  to  pure-minded  Stephen 
Crane,  and  shut  that  good  friend  up  to  prayer 
alone. 

And  yet  the  wheels  were  running.  It  is  the 
first  of  March.  The  wintry  snows  lie  cold  and 
crisp  upon  the  New  Hampshire  hills,  blinking 
back  defiance  to  the  lengthening  sun  of  spring. 
They  pile  yet  high  the  cheery  grates  in  the 


BUILDING  A   MANSION, 


parsonage  and  in  the  palace  of  the  village  auto- 
crat. Paul  is  at  home  ;  Clara  is  at  home,  and 
literally  as  much  at  home  in  one  house  as  the 
other.  The  cousins  may  run  up  from  Boston 
to  increase  the  indoor  social  joy,  and  to  "eat 
maple-sugar,"  in  frolicsome  visits  to  these  hill 
farms,  where  stand  the  naked  forests,  waiting  for 
the  altar-fires  of  the  sugar-makers. 

Paul  has  brought  up  Stephen  Crane,  which  is 
both  pleasing  and  displeasing  to  his  mother. 
Pleasing,  because  this  gentle  spirit  wins  for  him- 
self, everywhere,  a  loving  welcome  ;  but  almost 
too  warm  a  welcome  from  Miss  Nora  Havens, 
sweet  girl,  and  like  him  in  so  many  tastes. 
This  is  Steve's  third  vacation  visit.  Africa? 
Poor  mother  of  the  Havens  brood,  have  you 
nursed  her  for  this  ?  Does  God  ask  yet  this 
one  sacrifice  more  ?  Now  that  you  think  of  it, 
wonderful  heart  of  a  mother,  is  there  any  dif- 
ference between  the  children  ?  But  think  of  the 
honor  of  it,  good  soul  !  So  all  the  deacons  and 
godly  folk  would  talk,  —  the  honor  of  it.  Pos- 
sibly, within  a  year,  the  honors  will  begin.  This 
young  creature  will  stand  amid  a  few  flowers 
that  have  been  sent  down  to  the  ship  by  the 
Christians  of  the  city  ;  stand  beside  her  pale- 
faced  husband,  sustained  by  an  unearthly  resolu- 


I42  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


tion.  Oh,  God  only  knows  how  they  are 
sustained !  And  then  she  will  go  forth  to  battle 
with  those  weak  hands  against  a  continent  of 
darkness.  Possibly,  some  one  will  remember  that 
you  had  the  pangs  of  birth  for  such  a  heroine. 
Then,  in  time,  two  graves !  The  honor  ?  Are 
you  not  ambitious,  ye  wealthy,  scheming  mothers, 
who  possibly  read  this  ?  Possibly  the  honors 
are  not  distributed  in  this  world. 


THE   OLD  SCIIOOL-PIOUSE.  143 


VIII. 

THE    OLD    SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

ET  'S  all  go  with  your  papa  to-morrow 
night." 

"A  harmless  proposition,  Miss  Mistress-of -cere- 
monies." 

Paul  and  Clara  were  conferring  together  on  the 
possible  entertainments  of  these  days.  She  pro- 
posed, he  assented. 

"Harmless,"  she  resumed.  "It  will  be  right 
jolly.  He  preaches  at  the  school-house  at  'the 
Four  Corners,'  at  early  lamp-light.  Now,  Paul,  do 
please  give  out  the  notice  just  as  your  father 
does.  Hush!  Be  still,  all  of  you!"  she  ex- 
claimed to  the  parsonage  sitting-room  full  of  the 
two  families  ;  for  even  Mr.  Lemuel  Norcross,  very 
agreeable  and  cracking  dry  jokes,  had  found  time 
to  spend  one  evening  and  return  the  pastor's 
many  visits.  "Hush!  I  say!"  Clara  demanded. 
"  Paul  can  counterfeit  his  father's  very  tones  of 
voice.  Paul  ? "  She  stood  waiting  with  pretty 
expectancy. 

"Four  weeks  from   to-night,"    Paul  began,    in  a 


144  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


loud  tone,  "Providence  permitting,  I  will  preach 
here  again.  Meeting'  at  early  candle-light ! " 

"  Perfect,  perfect  !  "    shouted  a  half-dozen  voices. 

"  If  I  had  shut  my  eyes,"  said  Nora,  "  I 
should  certainly  have  said  it  was  papa  who 
spoke !  " 

"You  are  my  other  self,"  said  Mr.  Havens, 
smiling,  yet  wearing  a  thoughtful  look.  "  I  think 
the  people  would  be  quite  willing  to  hear  you, 
my  son." 

"  I  was  thinking,  coming  up  on  the  cars, 
father,"  Paul  replied,  with  a  sudden  gravity  and 
tenderness  in  his  tone,  that  every  one  noticed, 
"that  I  had  heard  you  preach  but  once,  for 
more  than  a  year." 

Clara  gave  him  a  quick  look.  That  last  hear- 
ing was  just  before  Paul's  mid-winter  return  to 
college.  The  identical  date  of  the  beginnings  of 
his  late  struggles  of  mind !  Had  the  preaching 
voice  of  his  father  any  thing  to  do  with  her 
lover's  unrest  ? 

"Seriously,  father,"  Paul  resumed,  "I  can  not 
describe  nor  explain  the  peculiar  power  my  own 
father's  tones  and  utterances  have  on  me,  as  I 
sit  fronting  him  in  the  pews.  I  have  often 
wondered  if  other  ministers'  children  confessed  to 
the  same  thrilling  spell." 


THE   OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE.  145 

What  say  you,  ministers^  children  who  read 
this?  Returning  after  long  absence  to  hear  it 
again ;  hearing  it  as  age  has  begun  to  shatter 
it  and  you  think  of  the  time  when  it  shall  be  for- 
ever hushed,  —  father's  voice  ;  hearing  it  rising  in 
masterly  utterance,  or  almost  sobbing  with  its 
tender  plea, — father's  voice  the  voice  of  God  to 
you ;  what  say  you  of  its  spell  ? 

A  harmless  proposition,  Paul  had  pronounced 
this  excursion,  and  Clara  could  not  understand 
him.  Paul's  destiny  will  exchange  wheels  for 
runners,  to-morrow's  moon-lit  evening.  We  shall 
get  on  fast,  very  fast  towards  our  destiny  now. 
We  will  all  go,  two  good  sleigh-loads,  with  this 
white-haired,  weary-faced  man,  whom  we  all  love. 

"He  is  not  fit  for  it,"  Mrs.  Havens  said. 
"  He  has  not  been  strong  enough,  all  this  winter 
long,  for  these  bleak  rides  to  the  distant  school- 
houses  and  his  preaching.  But  he  will  persist." 

"Do  you  remember,  Paul,"  said  the  pastor, 
trying  to  speak  out  very  cheerily  and  strong, 
"  what  good  times  you  and  I  used  to  have  on 
these  night  journeys?  How  I  used  to  finally  put 
you  down  between  my  knees,  under  the  buffalo 
robes " 

"  And  sing  me  to  sleep,  dear  father  ? "  Paul 
exclaimed.  "  The  music  of  the  bells,  the  run- 


J46  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


ners  and  your  hymns.  God  be  praised  for 
such  a  sire,  sir!"  And  he  cleared  his  throat. 
"  Father,  I  have  no  sweeter  memories  than 
these." 

Why,  then,  should  he  acknowledge  to  himself 
any  misgiving  or  apprehension  at  the  thought  of 
such  sweet  memories  made  real  again?  What 
did  Puss  Norcross  say,  that  last  night  in  Bos- 
ton ?  What  waking  hour  had  passed,  since  she 
said  it,  that  Paul  Havens  had  not  thought  of 
it  ?  What  did  this  white  face  of  his  father 
seem  to  say  now  ?  That  other  rest,  not  of 
this  world  ! 

It  was  one  night  in  a  thousand.  The  bells 
upon  the  horses  glistened  with  the  diamond  dust 
of  hoar  frost  from  their  wearers'  wreathing 
breaths.  You  could  not  touch  a  door  latch,  a 
gate  latch,  a  buckle  on  the  harness,  nor  any 
metallic  thing,  but  it  burned  like  fire.  The  river, 
that,  opposite  the  parsonage,  murmured  over  the 
dam  at  night  when  the  mills  were  still,  from 
its  strip  of  black,  open  water  sent  up  clouds  of 
incense  to  the  peerless  blue  of  a  cloudless  sky. 

"  That  tells  how  cold  it  is,  better  than  a 
thermometer,"  said  Paul,  as  he  drew  on  his 
gloves.  "  See  the  river  breathe,  Steve.  It  is 
warmer  than  this  air." 


THE   OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE.  147 

"  Oh,  such  a  night  !  such  a  world  !  And  to 
think  that  this  is  but  his  footstool !  "  exclaimed 
the  reverent  student,  a  southerner  by  birth. 
He  stood  transfixed  and  caught  at  Nora's  arm 
to  halt  her. 

"  Right  in  that  first  sleigh,  you  two,"  Clara 
directed  them.  "  And,  Mamma  Norcross,  you 
and  Pastor  Havens,  the  next  seat.  That  fills 
mamma's  sleigh.  John  will  drive  for  you,  mam- 
ma, dear."  In  the  cold  light  she  stood  so  warm 
of  color  that  the  moon  could  not,  at  its  very 
full,  lend  ghostly  hues  to  her ;  stood  mounted 
upon  a  pedestal  of  upthrown  snow  at  the  path- 
side,  and  so  pretty  in  robes  of  fur,  this  gener- 
alissimo whose  sword  was  a  muff. 

"Jim!"  to  her  stable-boy  who  drove  up  the 
next  sleigh,  "  Mr.  Havens  will  drive  my  ponies ; 
you  can  go  back  now.  You  and  I  the  front 
seat,  Paul.  Bella  take  the  back.  We  shall  meet 
Cousin  Andrew  at  the  depot  when  the  Montreal 
train  arrives.  Got  a  telegram !  Hurry  !  we 
should  be  there.  It  must  be  nearly  six  o'clock " 

Now  we  are  off.  Now  we  have  Andrew. 
Now  we  are  clear  of  the  village  streets.  Now 
we  break  through  the  roadside  fence,  though 
there  are  no  fences  to  be  seen,  and  take  to  the 
glorious  highway  of  the  glassy  river  for  at  least 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


three  miles.  Crip  !  crip  !  crip  !  the  steel-shod 
strokes  of  flying  hoofs  as  rapid  as  the  pulses 
of  these  happy  hearts.  We  note  the  golden 
lane  of  light  from  the  moon  across  the  glare  of 
the  dead  stream,  and  the  "  imps  of  skaters," 
curling  their  dark  forms  in  and  out  of  the  ray. 
We  -shudder  as  we  gaze  out  where  the  "air- 
holes "  show  the  black  throat  of  the  cruel  river. 
We  hear  the  far-off  melody  of  some  farmer's 
sleigh-bells  jogging  towards  us  ;  and  now  meet- 
ing them,  we  vote  them,  short-strapped  necklace 
of  big  bells  about  old  Dobbins'  neck,  more 
musical  in  the  echoing  night  than  our  new-fash- 
ioned strings  of  tiny  silvers  which  can  only 
"  crash  !  crash  !  crash  !  "  We  thought  there  was 
a  north  wind  before  we  started  ;  but  we  feel 
none  on  our  cheeks  as  we  speed  southward,  a 
part  of  the  wind,  on  its  very  wings  !  We  race 
for  John  ahead  ;  but  the  interval  does  not 
lessen,  and  it  will  not,  for  John  knows  how  the 
pastor  revels  in  the  movements  of  good  horses. 
There  is  not  to  be  found  a  fleeter  than  these 
two  spans. 

"  We  will  catch  them  !  "  shouts  Clara,  and 
seizes  the  reins  from  Paul.  "  Papa  told  me  the 
ponies  could  outstrip  mamma's." 

How    we   leap  into   the  cold   air  till   we  actually 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE.  1 49 

feel  a  wind  upon  our  cheeks.  We  outstrip  the 
north  wind !  We  look  down  to  see  a  little  fizz 
of  sparks,  from  these  steel  runners  here  and  there 
as  the  ice  is  roughened.  This  charioteer!  That 
Jehu  ahead !  But  Clara  loves  the  beasts. 

"  It  is  too  tremendous  a  pace,  Paul,"  handing 
over  the  reins. 

"And  your  hands  are  freezing,  Clara.  Too 
much  city,  this  winter." 

"  But  we  turn  here,"  she  directs.  "  We  climb 
the  hills  for  two  miles.  Let 's  sing." 

We  crawl  slowly  up  the  steep,  singing  hymns, 
singing  college  songs,  singing  the  chorus  over  and 
over,  because  our  voices  seem  to  learn  blending  in 
the  choruses.  There  are  little  shouts  of  protest 
as  we  catch  at  snow-laden  evergreens  and  shake 
their  ermine  down  upon  us.  The  pines  and  hem- 
locks which  we  shook  thus,  seem  to  tremble, 
with  a  sense  of  insult,  as  if  they  were  the  high- 
priests  of  these  solitary  hillsides,  asleep  before 
their  altars  till  we  plucked  them  '  by  the  beard. 
We  slowly  enter  the  solemn  aisles  of  the  forest 
just  beyond.  Beech,  birch,  and  maple,  lofty  and 
uncovered  as  becomes  the  congregation,  standing 
erect  as  if  in  prayer-time,  after  the  manner  of  the 
older  New  Englanders ;  these  great  trees  are  all 
of  the  first  settlers.  Or  the  towering  congrega- 


15°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

tion  breaks  forth  into  praises  as  we  pass.  Doubt- 
less it  was  the  upland  winds;  but  we  love  to 
think  it  is  these  giant  worshipers,  murmuring  their 
deep  thanksgiving  to  their  God. 

We  gradually  grow  hushed ;  we  feel  the  reac- 
tion, possibly ;  or  we  own  the  noble  spell ;  or 
we  are  busy  with  our  thoughts.  We  have  no- 
ticed, all  along,  that  Paul,  at  our  side,  was  in 
one  of  his  quiet  moods,  though  cheerful  enough, 
no  doubt. 

"  In  spite  of  all  I  can  do,  you  will  not  come 
out  of  your  reverie  ? "  A  little,  low  aside,  this, 
from  Clara  to  Paul. 

"  I  must  attend  to  the  horses,  you  know,"  he 
replies,  with  a  square  look  at  her,  sincere 
enough  in  its  tenderness,  if  that  was  what  she 
wanted. 

"  Which  does  not  explain  it  at  all,  sir,"  after 
which  she  is  asking  herself  whether  it  is  best 
to  pout.  But  two  souls  that  know  each  other 
well,  can  converse  without  speaking.  She  yielded 
to  him ;  she  grew  sedate ;  she  needed  not  to 
be  told  that  that  would  please  him  best,  just 
now. 

Then,  too,  it  is  time  to  be  quiet ;  we  are 
almost  at  the  school-house  door ;  the  mustering 
farmers  are  leading  their  families  along  the  snow- 


THE   OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE 


crust  at  our  very  side ;  hear  the  stout  boots 
echo  on  this  spotless  pavement  ;  the  little  girls 
wear  boots  just  like  the  boys'  boots,  and  we 
should  not  wonder  if  their  mothers  wore  almost 
the  same,  this  weather.  It  is  time  to  be  rever- 
ent, for  all  their  heads  are  turned  towards  the 
sleighs,  and  we  must  act  up  to  the  dignity  of 
the  pastor's  party,  lest  we  bring  a  scandal  on 
him  whom  we  love. 

"  Every  body  has  sharp  eyes  here,  Andrew," 
Clara  sends  back.  "  Talk  about  criticism  of  new 
bonnets  in  city  churches  ! "  That  hushes  him 
and  Bella. 

The  awkward  squad  of  country  youth  about 
the  door,  all  eyes,  all  silence,  all  health  and  its 
comliness,  all  eager  service  with  the  horses,  but 
not  so  much  as  venturing  to  offer  a  service  to 
the  fine  folk  whom  the  horses  have  drawn. 

They  nudge  each  other  with  the  elbow,  their 
hands  being  in  their  pockets,  as  Clara's  ponies 
come  to  the  door-stone.  The  nudge  means  "that 
is  Miss  Norcross  !  That  's  the  favored  son  of 
heaven  who  is  privileged  to  court  her.  Them's 
her  own  ponies."  But  not  a  vocal  word. 

"  Please  be  very  careful  of  them,  they  are  so 
warm/''  exclaims  Clara  to  Deacon  Lucas'  six- 
footed  sixteen-year-old,  who  got  at  the  bridles  first. 


IS2  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

Ah,  the  effect !  The  poor  fellow  had  a  speech 
ready  in  reply — which  he  could  not  utter  till 
he  got  to  his  father's  barn ;  then  he  spoke  it 
to  the  ponies.  Paul  had  offered  to  go  round 
with  the  colts.  Fortunate  for  him  he  did  not 
go,  or  young  Luce  and  he  would  never  have  been 
friends  again. 

Very  few  of  the  young  men  will  get  in  to 
hear  the  sermon ;  they  are  all  in  Luce's  barn, 
looking  over  the  turn-outs.  They  will  enter  the 
school-house  by  and  bye,  with  such  a  "stamp- 
ing "  of  snow-covered  feet,  a  very  thunder  in  the 
vestibule.  And  for  many  reasons,  it  is  doubtful 
if  this  convoy  of  "  fine  folk "  will  be  any  help 
to  the  good  pastor ;  fine  dress,  fine  manners, 
perfume  of  college,  Boston  riches ;  however  rev- 
erent his  company  may  be,  and  however  inno- 
cent, the  pastor  would  have  been  more  welcome 
alone. 

The  long-legged  adults  on  the  low  benches  of 
the  children ;  the  lamp  and  its  big  reflector  on 
the  right ;  on  the  left,  at  the  pastor's  back,  the 
square  box-stove,  roaring,  red  as  a  rose  on  top 
and  on  either  side,  and  bidding  every  one  be- 
ware. The  dry  heat,  in  a  room  without  an  air- 
hole, save  the  door,  an  atmosphere  unendurable, 
except  that,  with  all  these  farmers,  cleanliness 


THE   OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE.  153 

is  next  to  godliness :  the  blue  flannel  frock  that 
smells  of  the  ox  is  left  at  home  when  they 
assemble  for  worship ;  the  blackboard  at  the 
pastor's  back,  whose  chalkings  you  go  figuring 
through,  while  the  pastor  reads  the  hymn. 

If  this  classic-faced  clergyman  had  stood  robed 
in  the  grand  cathedral  train,  and  before  princes 
and  potentates,  he  could  not  have  been  more  rev- 
erent and  devout,  in  action  or  in  thought,  than 
here,  in  this  mere  perch  of  a  desk,  pronouncing, — 

"  All   hail  the   power  of  Jesus'  name, 
Let  angels   prostrate  fall." 

What  is  it,  Paul,  what  is  it  ?  Why,  man,  all 
the  blood  has  left  thy  cheeks  at  sound  of  that 
first  stanza.  It  is  the  same  old  voice  of  your 
father.  Or  do  you  detect  some  change,  pathetic 
prophecy  of  other  change  ?  Or  is  it  all  the  dear 
old  boyish  memories  come  suddenly  back  again 
that  move  thee  so  ?  We  are  getting  on  fast 
towards  our  destiny  now. 

There  is  a  laughter  more  pathetic  and  more 
tender  than  tears.  The  dear,  droll,  halting  sing- 
ing of  that  hymn  !  Clara  bites  her  lips  and 
hides  her  rosy  cheek  in  the  shadow  of  Paul's 
broad  shoulder.  We  all  have  rosy  cheeks,  by 
the  way,  and  stiff  ones  too,  coming  from  that 


154  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

cold  into  this  warmth.  But  we  all  try  to  sing, 
as  Clara  is  honestly  trying,  and  Paul,  with 
head  thrown  frankly  back,  and  making  no  effort 
to  smooth  out  his  broad  smile.  But  the  young 
man's  eyes  —  it  may  be  the  effect  of  the  wind 
and  this  sudden  warmth. 

Deacon  Luce  is  chorister,  self-appointed,  sitting 
with  us  face  to  all, — eyes  closed, — big  boot  beating 
-time,  "hum  —  in,  yen  —  "  after  which  preliminary, 
he  strikes  into  the  tune,  and  catches  firmly  hold 
on  the  first  word  of  the  stanza.  High  above  all 
others  the  deacon's  snarl  and  odd  pronunciation, 
yet  profoundly  reverent. 

"Al  —  m  —  m,  hail  the  peower  uv,  —  "and  then 
the  swing  of  a  cadence  that  next  comes  out  strong 
on  "  tf;/7*-gels,"  who  are  to  "  flraas-tratQ  fall." 
Then  the  swing  to  "forth — the";  a  leap  to  "ray- 
al " ;  a  joyous  jump  which  lands  him  safely  on 
"*#-a-dum,"  and  then  such  a  victorious  soaring 
away  on  the  high  notes  with  which  "  Old  Coro- 
nation" can  alone  gratify,  in  that  last  strain  before 
the  repeat.  The  deacon  prolongs  it  as  if  most 
reluctant  to  retreat  even  after  all  his  dauntless 
followers  have  come  to  a  breathless  halt,  mouths 
open  with  wonder  at  the  heights  their  leader 
has  attained.  When  his  breath  is  finally  gone, 
bold  captain  that  he  is,  for  a  moment  he  allows 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL-PIOUSE.  155 

silence,  then  inflates  again  his  capacious  lungs, 
a  little  trap-door  in  his  gullet,  gives  a  flap, 
which  we  spell  "me  —  yeh  !  "  and,  with  a  swing 
of  his  spectacles,  a  lunge  forward  of  his  body, 
a  thundering  beat  of  his  right  foot,  he  leads  us 
off  again  with  "  bring  forth  the,"  and  so  on  of 
the  repeat. 

Every  body  sings,  of  course,  yet  every  body 
is  very  careful  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the 
deacon's  stalwart  scythe.  He  "  leads  the  gang," 
in  the  hay  fields,  and  the  throng  are  just  as 
deferential  to  him  here.  Unless  we  were  to  notice 
the  very  venturesome,  and  only  occasional,  at- 
tempt to  soar  independent  and  unled  which 
wails  up  from  Aunt  Abig'l  Henlett,  who  sits  in 
yonder  corner.  It  is  not  worth  mentioning, 
however.  Brother  Luce  has  his  own  way.  Indeed, 
it  is  the  privilege  of  leading  the  singing  that, 
unconsciously  perhaps,  he  prizes  highest  in  these 
services ;  and  for  which  he  is  willing  to  contri- 
bute "  the  bait  to  the  elder's  hoss,"  and  a 
pumpkin  or  two  in  the  sleigh  to  take  home. 
The  pumpkins  all  count,  however,  be  ye  sure  of 
that,  towards  the  pew  rent  which  he  owes  the 
treasurer  of  the  village  church,  at  Crosston. 

And  yet,  there  is  so  much  of  genuineness  in 
the  singing,  there  is  something  so  noble,  always,  in 


156  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

this  majestic  hymn  itself,  borne  aloft  on  this  tune 
of  the  ages  ;  and  we  ca'n  but  feel  assured  of  the 
clean  and  wholesome  yeoman  characters,  so  thick- 
ly crowded  round  us  on  this  winter's  night, 
honest  in  their  purpose,  resorting  thither  to 
learn  of  God.  We  could  easily  be  melted  into 
deep  religious  emotion. 

"  My  brethren  !  "  You  are  not  much  surprised 
at  the  sudden  interruption,  though  it  chops  off  all 
breaths  that  are  just  drawn  to  begin  the  last 
stanza.  The  pious  rapture  has  quickened  the 
speaker  till  he  can  keep  his  silence  no 
more.  It  is  Enoch  Downer,  whom  all  "  the 
deestrick"  knows  but  to  love,  who  puts  up  his 
stubby  form  before  us  and  exclaims,  — 

"  My  brethren,  I  can't  keep  still  no  longer. 
This  blessed  hour !  The  fires  within  me  are 
kindlin' !  I  jest  riz  ter  say  —  yeh  !  "  And  here 
his  stentorian  utterance  echoes  like  his  sheep- 
call  upon  these  lofty  hills  at  summer-sundown. 
"To  say  —  yeh!  that  I  am  in  the  speret  ter 
night  —  eh.  And  though  I  stand  with  one  foot 
as  it  were  in  the  grave,  eh  —  and  the  other 
all  but,  eh,  I  am  bound  to  live  on  the  Lord's 
side,  eh!" 

Of  course,  Clara  had  heard  this  speech  before, 
even  from  a  child,  in  the  village  prayer-meeting, 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL-HOUSE.  157 


and  had  made  the  infantile  inquiry  as  to  "  what 
good  Mr.  Downer  meant  by  saying  that  he 
stood  with  one  foot  in  the  gravy  and  the  other 
in  the  butter  and  so  forth?"  We  have  all 
heard  it,  except  Andrew  Norcross,  Boston  cousin. 
And  we  always  smile.  Yet  we  know  the' 
speaker  so  well  and  esteem  him  as  so  true  a 
man,  that  we,  too,  catch  an  emotion  from  his 
sing-song  shout  of  joy.  Away  we  go,  again, 
with  that  last  inspiring  stanza  of  the  almost 
nameless  Perronet  in  a  hymn  which  might  well 
have  given  its  author  a  place  in  the  love  and 
gratitude  of  the  Christian  world. 

"  Let   us   pray  !  " 

How  solemn  is  the  hush  that  greets  thine 
invitation,  Elder  Havens,  man  of  God  to  every 
one  in  this  room.  As  poor,  yet  making  many 
rich.  Poor  ?  Thou  art  rich,  thou  preacher,  in 
the  rare,  —  most  rare  indeed  as  men  go  in  this 
world,  — the  measureless  regard  of  all  this  room. 
It  is  little  matter  what  thou  sayest ;  for  any 
words  endorsed  by  such  a  life  as  thine  but 
make  us  think  on  the  God  to  whom  thou  art 
now  inviting  us. 

"  Let  us  pray."  And  while  we  bate  our  breaths 
yet  hear  each  other  breathe,  hear  sighs  of 
weary  hearts  and  whispers  of  "  Amen !  "  it  would 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


seem  that  we  are  very  far  away  from  the  silk 
house  in  Boston.  The  wheels  which  have  been 
moving  are  almost  still.  We  are  very  far  away 
from  the  new-building  palace  on  Commonwealth 
Avenue.  The  wheels  are  still.  We  have  come 
to  the  hour  of  our  destiny  at  last.  It  is  not 
in  the  lecture-room  of  the  very  wise  college.  It 
is  not  in  the  flashing  show  of  the  opera  night. 
It  is  not  under  the  groined  roof  of  the  stately 
church,  where  brilliant  Mr.  Crestlake  rounds  his 
grave  and  polished  speech.  It  is  in  this  mean 
and  scanty  hut,  yet  place  of  wonderful  inspira- 
tion to  many  great  Americans, — a  New  England 
school-house. 

At  all  events,  Paul  Havens  and  Clara  Nor- 
cross,  be  it  where  it  may,  no  doubt  the  mys- 
terious wheels  are  still.  We  have  come  to 
decisions  now.  If  we  were  to  look  up  we  could 
not,  as  our  eyes  are  now,  manage  to  read  the 
swimming  figures  on  the  dial.  But  we  dare  not 
look  up.  We  tremble  and  shake  with  the  inward 
emotion.  Our  father's  voice  in  prayer,  brings 
back  that  other  Voice.  To  disobey  is  to  die ! 


THE  DECISION.  159 


IX. 

THE    DECISION. 

FT  would  be  profane  to  attempt  a  description 
-  of  that  prayer.  Indeed,  it  was  not  so  much 
what  was  said.  Nor  can  any  analyst  put  cause 
for  effect  in  these  movements  of  mind.  We 
show  you  a  mystery,  namely,  how  the  God-called 
preacher,  resisting,  self-willed,  like  iron  against 
his  call,  yet  suddenly  at  last  melts — falls!  It 
is  as  the  iceberg,  long  proud-towered  and  long, 
long  wooed  by  the  gentle  sunbeam,  cracks, 
bows!  It  is  just  as  your  ship  is  passing;  but 
it  was  not  your  glance  that  caused  it.  It  was 
the  awful  product  of  many  days  of  unconscious 
sun's  rays. 

Neither  Paul  nor  Clara  lifted  their  faces  till 
some  moments  after  the  simple  sermon  had  be- 
gun. When  they  did,  Clara  had  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes,  while  her  lover  held  his  head  erect 
enough,  though  his  eyes  were  closed,  and  through 
the  lids  the  truant  tears  were  now  and  then  un- 
mistakably stealing.  They  sat  with  hands  clasped 
under  the  concealment  of  her  cloak.  She  had 


160  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

reached  for  his,  and  be  sure  he  had  gladly  wel- 
comed her  sympathy.  Was  not  that  a  part  of  the 
problem,  whether  now  their  hands  were  being 
joined  for  the  last  time? 

"  I  am  not  old,"  said  the  preacher,  "  but  yet, 
I  have  a  strong  conviction  that  my  preaching 
days  are  nearly  done." 

Paul  was  profoundly  moved.  He  knew  the 
preacher,  and  that  there  was  no  stage-trick,  called 
cant  to  adapt  it  to  the  pulpit,  in  this  weary 
plaint. 

"  I  bethink  me,  often,  of  the  way  I  have  trav- 
eled. With  all  its  sorrows — and  I  have  joyed  to 
add  your  sorrows  to  my  own,  till  I  can  scarce 
pass  a  farm-house  which  is  not  replete  with  such 
memories  —  yet  it  has  been  a  way  of  inexpressi- 
ble delight!" 

"God   bless   him!" 

"Amen!" 

"Yes,    yes!" 

"And  soon  I  must  leave  this  work  —  to  whom? 
I  hear  of  your  sons  going  to  the  "city,  brethren. 
It  is  out  of  your  homes  that  the  exhausted  cities, 
down  country,  recruit  their  banks  and  stores. 
Your  boys  are  at  Dartmouth,  and  Amherst,  and 
Wesleyan.  Oh,  we  raise  bright  boys  up  here. 
But  not  a  candidate  for  the  ministry  has  sprung 


THE  DECISION.  l6l 


up  from  these  hills  in  eight  years  !  And  the  cry 
is  for  ministers.  Who  will  go  ? " 

It  was  at  the  very  close  of  his  discourse.  He 
had  not  dwelt  upon  the  appeal  in  the  body  of 
his  sermon.  It  was  but  a  tender,  and  Paul  knew, 
a  most  apt,  appeal  at  the  end.  It  followed  appro- 
priately his  line  of  thought,  and  it  was  a  proper 
word  to  speak,  these  vacation  days,  in  the  hear- 
ing of  other  ears  beside  his  own. 

And  yet  Paul  knew  that  the  words  were  in- 
tended for  himself.  A  preacher  may  not  preach 
at  an  individual.  But,  if  he  is  conscious  of  a 
sacred  friendship  between  himself  and  a  hearer, 
he  may  preach  a  truth  to  his  friend,  making  him 
the  only  and  the  honored  auditor  among  a  thou- 
sand. A  clergyman's  children  often  know  that 
"father  meant  us."  They  are  often  melted  to 
tears  by  such  appeals  ;  for  it  seems  as  if,  weary 
and  diffident  of  direct  approach  so  often  vainly 
iterated  in  the  secrecy  of  home,  the  good  man 
had  no  other  recourse  left  but  to  preach  to  them 
as  to  strangers.  Pitiful  plight  of  their  rebellion  ! 

Oh,  what  tales  the  pastor's  pew  could  tell, — 
when  it  has  listened  and  known  that  the  preacher 
was  racked  with  pain  ;  when  it  has  listened  and 
known  all  the  hints  of  his  and  their  bereave- 
ment ;  when  it  has  listened  in  the  place  of  his 


l62  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


critics  and  his  enemies,  his  false  brethren,  and  his 
secret  detractors.  When  it  has  listened,  the  pas- 
tor's rentless  pew  —  though,  to  be  sure,  it  might 
not  command  much  rent,  located  where  it  is,  — 
listened  to  any  reference  to  the  time  when  the 
preacher's  voice  would  exhort  no  more.  There  are 
pews  and  pews,  but  no  pew  could  speak  like  the 
pastor's  pew. 

As  Mr.  Havens  sank  into  his  seat,  with  that 
last  question  yet  unanswered,  "Who  will  go?" 
Paul  turned  to  Clara  with  this  reply : 

"/  will !     Let    me   pass,   please." 

"  Is  he  ill  ?  Do  go ! "  she  responded  ;  and 
moving  out  from  the  cramped  desk  she  added, 
"May  I  not  go  with  you,  Paul?" 

He  turned,  involuntarily,  and  gave  her  one  look, 
as  if  to  read,  if  she  meant  it,  a  better  meaning, 
even,  than  a  proffer  to  help  the  fainting  speaker, 
half  overcome  in  this  confined  atmosphere.  The 
next  moment  he  was  bending  eagerly  over  his 
father's  chair. 

"Father!"  then  grasping  both  of  his  hands, 
since  the  blue  lips  moved  not.  "  My  father !  you 
are  not  ill."  Instead  of  which  reassurance  most 
fools  would  have  blurted  out,  "How  pale,  ghastly 
you  look!"  But  wise,  strong  Paul  said,  "Dear 
father !  Ah,  you  are  looking  at  me.  You  appear 


THE  DECISION.  163 


and  feel  stronger  now,  dear  sir!  It  is  the  heat  — 
and  the  unusual  unction  with  which  you  spoke." 

"My  children  — "  the  nerveless  clergyman 
gasped. 

"  Are  all  about  you,  papa,  dear ! "  cried  Nora, 
falling  on  her  knees  at  his  side,  and  beginning 
to  loosen  his  neck-wear. 

"  Yes,  papa.  Oh,  God  help  us ! "  exclaimed 
Bella,  straightening  up  from  kissing  —  and  suffo- 
cating him.  "  See  !  he  can  not  speak  !  My  God, 
he  will  die  here!  —  and  oh,  poor  mamma!" 

"  Hush,  child  ! "  said  Paul.  "  No,  no,  do  not 
come  about  us  so  ! "  This  to  the  little  room-full 
who  had  sprung  forward  at  Bella's  shriek. 

"  Bella,  Bella,  't  is  only  a  faint,"  said  Clara,  who 
instantly  found  comfort  for  herself  in  comforting 
this  distracted  daughter.  What  a  difference  in 
chicks  of  the  same  brood !  Nora,  the  missionary 
of  to-morrow,  calm,  laborious  at  her  father's  tem- 
ples, yet  wise  enough  to  know  all  the  time  that 
it  might  be  the  dreaded  paralysis,  a  family  in- 
heritance. Bella  herself  like  one  dead  in  Clara 
Norcross'  arms. 

"Now  room!  Do  —  you  —  hear  —  men — and  — 
women  ?  Let  —  us  —  pass,  —  please  ! "  .  Paul  Ha- 
vens had  his  father's  form  in  his  own  unaided 
arms,  and  was  bearing  him,  with  strides  that 


1 64  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

shook  the  floor,  to  the  door.  Alone  he  would 
have  done  it,  too,  but  that  Andrew  Norcross 
would  not  suffer  him,  and  lent  a  hand. 

"  Here,  father,  we  are,  in  the  fresh  air.  You 
are  better,  now !  So,  so,  my  coat  for  a  pillow. 
There ;  you  will  ride  home  as  well  as  you  came, 
dear  sir.  You  can  move  your  hand ! " 

No   response. 

"  Can   you   not   move   your   foot  ? " 

No   response. 

"  Brandy !  Yes,  yes,  you  must  take  it.  There 
can  be  no  harm  in  brandy  now.  God  created  it 
for  such  an  hour.  Drink,  father.  It  has  come 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  five  minutes,  by  this  young 
fellow's  legs.  Now,  speak,  father.  You  can  move 
your  tongue." 

No   response. 

"At  least  he  swallows,"  whispers  Nora,  who  has 
sunk  to  the  snow-covered  floor,  and  got  the  fond 
head  in  her  lap,  and  offered  a  glass  of  water. 

"  If  you  could  but  get  him  to  take  the  brandy," 
says  Andrew,  also  on  his  knees  by  the  prostrate 
form. 

"  He  would  die  first,  I  almost  think,"  whispered 
Bella,  who,  on  her  knees,  also,  is  miserably  help- 
less, with  head  leaned  hard  and  scared  face  hid  on 
Clara's  shoulder.  Indeed,  it  is  a  kneeling  group. 


THE  DECISION.  1 6- 


"No.  Do  not  trouble  him  with  the  liquor. 
We  know  how  he  hates  it.  Father,  your  wish  ! " 
exclaims  Paul,  bending  down  close.  "Oh,  speak 
again,  my  father  !  " 

What  a  waiting  it  is,  the  waiting  to  know  !  — 
whether  about  the  bed  of  luxury  in  chambers 
of  elegance  and  the  watch  and  pulse  in  the 
hands  of  skill,  or  here  under  the  blink  of 
the  stars  that  peep  in  through  this  open 
door,  and  with  these  hapless  young  people, 
unskilled  except  in  love  and  prayer.  We  wait 
an  age,  so  it  seems.  In  fact,  it  is  the  barest 
interval. 

But  in  that  interval  the  student  has  reviewed 
the  lessons  of  a  life-time.  He  presses  his  clenched 
hands  hard  between  his  knees.  The  drops  of 
agony  start  out  upon  his  brow,  and  the  winter's 
breath  can  not  keep  them  back.  In  the  interval 
of  waiting,  he  kisses  his  father  like  a  boy.  In 
that  interval,  with  all  the  seeming  of  orphanage, 
his  heart  goes  out  to  Clara — kneeling  face  to 
face.  She  is  so  beautiful  in  her  mingled  love 
and  pity.  She  is  the  next  sacred  idol  of  his 
heart,  and  shall  be  first  now,  perhaps,  in  a  few 
moments.  She  surely  will  not  let  him  go  the 
ways  of  life  alone.  He  reaches  over  and  takes 
her  hand,  saying,  — 


1 66  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"Clara,  would  God  he  had  lived  to  hear  me 
say  it!" 

"  Say  it  now,  Paul.  Perhaps  his  spirit  will  — 
will  —  turn  back  to  hear  it!" 

Quick,  then.  "FatJier!  Father!  Oh,  tongue  of 
a  good  man.  Mine  can  never  plead  as  thou  hast. 
But,  so  God  help  me,  I  will  take  tip  the  story 
that  these  lips  have  this  night  ceased  to  tell!" 

"  Paul,  see ! "  quietly,  promptly  speaks  Nora. 
"He  is  far  from  dead.  He  heard  that!" 

"  Again,  Paul !  It  is  good  medicine."  The 
words  spring  from  Clara's  lips  as  if  one  word. 

"  Father  !  Great  God,  witness  !  Father,  live  to 
hear  me  preach.  If  that  is  what  God  means." 

How  strange  do  words  sometimes  sound,  —  not 
often,  but  once  or  twice  in  a  life-time,  when 
they  are  so  richly  freighted  and  so  unearthly  in 
their  cadence,  that  it  seems  as  if  you  heard 
the  very  soul  of  a  human  creature  uttering 
speech. 

"  I  will,  my   son.     Strength  —  returns.     Home !  " 

Yes,  home.  Lift  him.  Embrace  ye  Paul.  He 
has  almost  raised  our  dead !  Oh,  gently,  yet 
swiftly,  make  pillows  and  a  couch.  Let  our 
tears  fall  like  rain  in  the  joyous  revulsion  of 
emotion.  Let  our  prayers  be  thanks,  and  our 
words  all  prayers  that  we  get  safely  back  to 


THE  DECISION.  1 67 


the  Crosston  parsonage.  Let  us  but  wring  each 
others'  hands  now  and  ask  for  no  explanations. 
There  will  be  many  things  to  tell  and  wonder 
over,  how  Paul  brought  the  dead  to  life  with  a 
word ;  but  it  'is  little  matter  now  what  the  word 
was,  or  how  he  and  this  dear,  helpful  Clara 
knew  what  word  to  speak.  We  shall  do  best  at 
home  with  a  physician,  and  mamma  at  hand. 
If  it  is  but  "  the  first  stroke,  at  worst " ;  and 
there  must  be  two  more,  and  perhaps  he  will 
never  have  them. 

We  get  away  from  the  kind  farmer  group. 
We  see  him  revive  by  the  minute  now.  This 
air,  with  the  crown  of  the  Boreal  Lights  that 
begin  to  flash  and  flash  all  across  the  heavens, 
these  are  batteries  of  God-sent  power.  How  the 
red  banners  flaunt  clear  up  to  the  zenith  as 
we  fly !  Fingers  of  scarlet  and  hands  of  gold ! 
We  fairly  feel  the  vital  force  that  is  flung 
down  upon  us  from  those  mystic  finger  tips, 
as  we  speed  away.  The  sick  man  lifts  his  arm 
to  point  to  the  glorious  sky.  The  two  women, 
Clara  and  Nora,  who  make  his  pillow,  bend  to 
hear. 

"The  Northern  Lights  always  —  give  —  me  — 
life!" 

"He  has  got  his  speech  all  back,  Paul!"    They 


1 68  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

shout    it    to  Paul,  who   guides    the   ponies   in  their 
wild    descent   of    the   hills. 

"Did  you  notice,"  the  clever  little  physician, 
Clara,  resumed  to  Nora,  "how  utterly  overcome 
and  useless  to  us  young  folks  Mamma  Norcross 
was?" 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  I  had  n't  thought  of  her. 
But  now  I  remember  her  sobbing  in  the  seat  all 
by  herself,  and  motioning  you  to  leave  her  with 
Mr.  Crane." 

"  Sister  Norcross  —  is  —  a  very  sensitive  na- 
ture," the  clergyman  murmured  faintly.  "Much 
dependent  on  her  strong  husband." 

"That's  true,  you  —  poor  dear,"  exclaimed  the 
delighted  Clara,  giving  him  a  motherly  little  clutch 
and  kiss,  after  the  manner  of  woman's  sover- 
eignty over  all  manly  age  or  dignity,  when  man 
is  ill.  But  in  the  next  instant  came  a  troubled 
thought  that  made  her  silent.  The  mention  of 
her  father's  strength !  She  stopped  short  in  her 
remedial  treatment  of  this  man,  thinking  anx- 
iously of  that  man. 

"What  amazement,  your  mother  and  Mr. 
Crane  both  springing  to  feet  —  my  first  reviving 
sight  by  the  big  school-house  lamp,  —  when  Paul 
said  what  he  did !  "  Then  the  invalid  added,  with 
ineffable  repose,  "  Thank  my  God ! " 


THE  DECISION.  169 


It  was  Clara  Norcross'  first  return  to  self- 
consciousness.  She  had  forgotten  all  about  her 
father,  her  own  future,  and  the  portentous 
changes  wrought  prophetically  upon  it  within 
the  last  short  hour.  But  she  was  awake  to  the 
morrow  now.  She  suddenly  found  herself  almost 
wishing  that  the  flight  of  the  steeds  might  be 
checked;  she  drew  back  in  her  seat  as  if  to 
hinder  them.  She  made  some  involuntary  motion 
that  must  have  been  discoverable  to  the  sick 
man,  for  he  said,  — 

"You  and  Paul,"  then  pausing,  then  repeating, 
"you  and  Paul  will  never  regret  it,  —  my  son, 
my  daughter." 

"Brother  told  us,"  quickly  put  in  Nora,  with 
the  best  intentions  in  the  world  of  course,  but 
blundering  unaccountably,  for  a  woman,  you 
would  say,  except  that  she  would  have  looked 
upon  any  thing  like  jealousy  in  Clara  as  im- 
possible,—  "what  a  soul-thrust — that's  Paul's 
expression — your  Cousin  Fidelia  gave  him.  He'll 
never  forget " 

"Puss  Norcross!"  exclaimed  Clara.  Her  voice 
was  suddenly  grown  cold  as  this  winter  air. 
"And  what,  pray  tell,  did  she  say  to  him  which 
was  so  important  ? " 

But   in   the   next  few   moments  she  would  have 


17°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


given  any  thing  to  have  that  pert,  little  speech 
safely  back  in  her  own  mouth,  for  she  wr.s 
greeted  with  one  of  those  blank  silences  which 
we  use  to  express  both  surprise  and  pain ;  and 
she  would  not,  for  worlds,  distress  this  precious 
invalid,  as  she  feared  that  she  had. 

Clara  welcomed  the  silence,  on  second  thought. 
It  was  easier  than  conversation  in  the  frosty 
air,  and  bounding  and  thumping  down  the  high- 
land roadway  at  the  top  of  their  speed.  Clara 
Norcross  had  one  peculiarity  that  might  be  called 
exceptional  in  the  only  child  of  opulent  indul- 
gence :  She  kept  the  troubles  of  life  to  herself. 
It  is  not  a  bad  peculiarity ;  it  makes  your 
presence  a  perpetual  cheer.  If  she  had  ever 
felt  a  jealous  pang,  she  would  not,  on  reflection, 
have  revealed  it ;  therefore,  Paul  had  never  sus- 
pected it.  She  was  glad  to  hope  that  he  had 
not  overheard  her  unguarded  remark. 

There  is  not  a  little  pride,  as  well  as  strength 
of  character,  in  this  reticence  of  sorrows.  But 
if  one  be  delicately  sensitive  as  well,  it  is  ter- 
ribly expensive,  —  one  consumes  in  secret.  No 
one  knew  the  amount  of  hard  thinking  that  the 
girl  had  done  within  the  last  year  over  this 
question  of  Paul's  possible  life-work.  It  all 
sprung  up  anew  now,  like  a  spectre,  to  add  to 


THE  DECISION.  I /I 

the  already  intense  excitement  of  her  tender 
sensibilities  this  night.  It  sprung  up,  like  any 
resurrected  trouble,  with  increased  power  to 
terrorize  at  the  mention  of  her  father's  and 
Puss  Norcross'  name. 

"  I  will  follow  him,  my  Paul,"  she  found  her- 
self iterating  with  tongue  and  lips,  and  no  sound, 
"  no  matter  what  papa  may  say !  What  must  a 
woman  do,  but  follow  her  love,  when  it  is  inno- 
cent ?  I  am  not  changeable ;  I  simply  follow  my 
hero.  Where  the  men  go,  the  loyal  women 
go.  But  what  a  scene  we  shall  have  with  papa! 
Europe  ?  The  elegant,  new  Boston  home  ?  Puss 
Norcross  shall  not  win  him !  Has  she  been  of 
nobler  service  to  him  than  I  ?  Am  I  not  also 
a  Christian  girl  ?  " 

She  felt  the  kindling  of  this  flaming  night  as 
it  fluttered  its  gorgeous  hues  overhead.  There 
is  a  peculiarity  about  these  electrical  displays  in 
the  extreme  north  which  is  little  known  to  the 
southerner.  They  set  you  on  fire.  They  make  the 
brain  a  lesser  altar,  on  which  to  feed  unusual 
fires.  Thoughts  and  emotions  revel  in  ill-control. 
Clara  was  almost  hysterical. 

"See!"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  invalid,  who, 
half  reclining,  could  gaze  up  and  almost  lose 
himself  in  the  heavenly  vision. 


I72  DOLLARS  AA?D  DUTY. 


"  Good !  Good !  He  points  with  his  right 
arm,  Paul ! "  shouted  the  happy  Nora. 

"  Thank  God ! "  said  Paul,  venturing  to  turn 
for  a  moment. 

"  See  !  "  the  father  continued.  "  It  makes  the 
very  shape  of  the  cross  above  us !  It  is  your 
harbinger,  my  boy.  He  is  giving  me  back  my 
life  again.  He  answers  prayer.  Oh,  you  know 
that  I  am  no  habitual  shouter ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  I  must  shout  now.  God  is  so  good ! 
Glory  to  his  name  !  If  men  only  knew  how 
blissful  it  is  to  serve  him.  Glory  !  Paul  ? "  And 
the  speaker  sprung  into  a  sitting  posture, 
his  striking  features  radiant  and  half  up-turned, 
his  hand  up-flung  in  favorite  gesture. 

Paul  turned  to  look  with  silent  wonder.  The 
two  beautiful  faces  at  the  preacher's  side  turned 
to  look  with  silent  wonder. 

"  Paul,"  he  shouted  with  a  mighty  effort,  "  we 
will  stand  together  and  point  to  that  cross,  you 
and  I,  father  and  son!  Hallelujah!  The  Lord 
God  omnipotent  reigneth  !  " 

And,  as  if  to  make  reply,  just  then,  over  the 
worshipful,  upturned  faces  of  the  company,  over 
the  sleeping  forelands  couchant  on  either  hand 
over  the  glassy  river  now  left  by  the  moon  to 
this  holier  and  more  awful  glow,  the  great 


THE  DECISION.  1/3 

crown  from  the  far  north  moved !  It  marched 
like  an  army  with  banners,  slowly,  steadily  up, 
up,  up  the  arc  of  the  sky.  It  suddenly  broke. 
It  wheeled  and  countermarched  its  glittering 
hosts  in  confusing  evolution,  on  which  their 
earthly  eyes  now  gazed  almost  appalled.  Then 
the  light  halted.  When  all  was  still,  lo  there ! 
It  was,  in  fact,  a  form  of  the  cross !  More  dis- 
tinct than  the  watching  clergyman  had  seen 
before,  though  watching  long  its  approximations 
to  this  shape,  a  cross  of  fire. 

The  cross  was  still  above  them  for  many 
seconds.  They  forgot  all  in  contemplation. 
Thank  heaven,  it  did  not  endure  long,  for  it  was 
not  in  flesh  and  blood  to  endure  the  sight  and 
live.  While  they  gazed,  with  a  great  flash  it  was 
gone.  Northerners  are  familiar  with  the  illusion, 
—  if  it  is  illusion,  —  of  an  audible  sound  accom- 
panying these  displays  at  times. 

"I  surely  heard  a  voice!"  whispered  the  awe- 
struck clergyman,  sinking  back  exhausted. 

"A  voice   from   heaven,"    echoed    Paul. 

"  It  sounded  like  a  whisper,"  said  Nora,  trem- 
bling and  affrighted. 

"It  surely  did.  Oh!  Oh!"  And  with  this 
Clara  could  endure  no  more.  She  got  to  a 
woman's  relief  at  once.  She  bowed  her  head  on 


1/4  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


the     great     furred     shoulder    of     the    pastor     and 
sobbed   uncontrollably. 

A  strange  happiness  this.  It  is  not  often  given 
a  place  in  popular  descriptions.  It  can  not, 
doubtless,  be  described.  The  pure  religious  ec- 
stasy of  this  reclining  man,  lying  as  in  the  restful 
bosom  of  God.  He  had  this  witness,  that  he 
pleased  God,  no  doubt.  He  had  an  unearthly  joy 
in  the  consecration  of  his  son.  It  might  be  worth 
while  for  fathers  to  ask  if  ever,  when  a  son  of 
theirs  first  took  his  place  in  the  money-making 
firm,  and  it  was  written  on  the  old  sign,  "  Arid 
Son,"  over  the  door,  such  joy  came  to  them  ;  or 
when  a  son  won  his  first  election,  or  a  great  pro- 
motion with  added  stars  and  bangles  in  Vanity 
Fair.  Sylvester  Havens  scarcely  spoke  again  till 
they  reached  the  parsonage  door. 

An  unearthly  happiness,  this  of  Paul  Havens. 
Doubtless,  hard  to  describe,  also.  You  may  say, 
"  Sweet  to  obey  conscience."  Then  multiply  that 
by  what  ?  Some  celestial  multiple.  But  you  have 
no  figures,  nor  language,  with  which  to  write  out 
the  product.  Self  utterly  forgotten  now,  because 
self  was  dead  and  hid.  A  new-born  self  in  its  place. 

It  was  peace  and  rest  in  decision,  after  unrest- 
ful  years,  for  he  had  been  fighting  this  Voice 
since  twelve  years  of  age. 


THE  DECISION. 


It  was  his  father  recovered  ;  not  dead,  but 
alive  ! 

It  was  Clara  Norcross  prompting  him ;  and 
therefore  assenting  to  his  destiny. 

But  it  was  more  than  all  these,  which  of  them- 
selves would  fill  the  cup  of  most  men,  a  very 
full  cup  of  this  life's  joys.  It  was  the  Divine 
favor.  The  keen  blast  that  whistled  over  the 
field  and  the  river  whispered  softly  to  him  of  the 
Divine  favor.  The  bleak  aspect  of  nature,  lifeless 
and  dread,  seemed  actually  to  put  on  a  change 
and  to  smile  like  a  summer's  evening  with  the 
Divine  favor.  He  had  a  sense  of  safety,  in  this 
vast  universe  ;  of  the  inalienable  kindness  of  all 
things  towards  himself,  so  that  the  very  elements 
seemed  to  caress  him,  and  he  could  not  have 
perished  had  he  made  a  bed  of  the  drifts  that 
blushed  beside  the  path  in  the  hues  of  this 
strange  sky.  He  was  immortal  already ;  he  could 
not  die  till  his  work  was  done.  He  exulted  in 
this  immunity  from  death,  from  injury,  from  de- 
feat. No  pain,  no  privation,  but  assumed  the  ap- 
pearance of  privilege, — Divine  favors  all.  He  could 
not,  though  he  tried  to  imagine  one,  foresee  a 
place  of  labor  so  somber,  so  black,  so  terrible, 
that  it  could  quench  his  mysterious  eagerness  to 
dare  and  do  for  men  therein.  His  felicity  was 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


almost  overpowering.  He  began  to  fear.  He 
found  himself  asking,  "  O  God,  temper  the  joy  ! 
Let  me  have  strength  to  endure  this  Divine 
favor."  It  is  rare,  yet  it  is  not  unknown,  —  this 
cry  for  strength  to  receive  all  the  sudden  happi- 
ness that  is  sent.  You  have  been  carried  to  the 
pitch  of  rapture  by  music,  and  have  felt,  suddenly 
and  to  your  surprise,  that  you  could  endure  no 
more  ;  hence  you  began  to  study  the  dress  of 
your  neighbor,  or  any  other  triviality  was  seized 
on,  to  quench  the  brain-fire.  So  Paul  Havens, 
for  very  relief,  leaned  forward  to  watch  the  nigh 
horse  as  she  reached  out  over  the  ice.  But  it 
was  for  a  moment  only  ;  the  mind  returned  to 
drink  again  of  the  Divine  favor. 

You  have  been  the  subject  of  a  dear  friend's 
"  Bless  you,  I  want  to  make  you  happy  !  "  But 
it  passes  telling,  the  ecstasy  of  it,  when  you 
hear  the  Divine  "  Bless  you  !  I  am  now  making 
you  happy  !  "  Paul  remembers  how  it  is  written, 
"  If  these  should  hold  their  peace,  the  very  stones 
would  cry  out."  He  seems  to  see  that  ancient 
Speaker  of  Jerusalem's  street  ;  and  suddenly, 
chanting  in  low,  sonorous  tones  of  reverence,  to 
the  notes  of  an  old  tune,  he  gives  his  heart 
utterance,  — 

"  Holy,   holy,   holy,  Lord   God   of  hosts  ;  heaven 


THE  DECISION.  1 77 


and  earth  are  full  of  thy  glory :  glory  be  to  thee, 
O  Lord  most  high." 

Louder,  yet  more  reverent  and  solemn,  the 
singer  begins  to  repeat,  when  the  two  women's 
voices  join  his  without  the  asking,  "  Holy,  holy, 
holy  !  " 

Once,  when  they  paused  at  the  end  of  the  re- 
frain, from  the  enameled  rocks  of  a  foreland  by 
the  river's  narrow  pass,  through  which  they  were 
slowly  winding,  came  back  the  echo,  soft  as  angel 
minstrelsy,  as  if,  indeed,  the  trembling  air  was 
full  of  benediction,  "  Lord,  most  high-high-high ! " 

In  the  hush  of  this  great  happiness  they  go 
on,  till  they  reach  the  village-street  deserted,  till 
they  lift  their  load  to  the  parsonage-path,  and  it 
is  a  load  no  longer. 

"  Children,"  said  the  clergyman,  using  his  own 
feet,  "  we  will  have  no  need  to  tell  mother  of 
my  slight  indisposition  till  the  morning,  when  I 
can  both  tell  her  and  reassure  her." 

When,  a  few  moments  later  at  her  father's 
door,  Paul  stood  folding  Clara  fondly  for  a  lover's 
brief  good-night,  the  other  sleigh  load  not  yet 
having  come  in  sight  of  the  porch  that  sheltered 
them,  .he  whispered,  — 

"  We  have  never  seen  a  brighter  hour,  my 
precious  girl ! " 


178  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


She  lifted  her  head  from  his  shoulder  and 
looked  up  into  his  eyes  a  moment,  not  answer- 
ing. Then  she  faltered  out,  "If  it  would  only 
last,  Paul." 

"Last?  This  joy?  The  favor  of  God  lasts 
forever,  if  we  obey.  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

Turning  partly  round,  she  looked  through  the 
window  of  her  father's  "  den,"  from  whence  the 
lamp-light  streamed  across  the  portico.  Having 
made  sure,  she  drew  Paul  aside  and  pointing  in 
through  the  gap  in  the  heavy  velvet  curtains, 
said,  "  Come  and  see." 

The  manufacturer  sat  smoking  and  toiling,  so 
abstracted  that  he  had  not  heard  their  footsteps 
upon  the  creaking  marble. 

"  Do    you  know  what  he   is  doing  ?  "   she  asked. 

"  Trying  to  add  millions  unto  a  million,  I  sup- 
pose." The  descent  seemed  like  a  fall  from 
heaven. 

"  For   whom,    Paul  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  answer  that  he  thinks  it  is  for  you 
and  me  ? " 

"  And  then,  add  to  that,  that  he  will  call  us 
traitors  for  this  night's  resolves,"  she  continued, 
with  a  tone  of  downright  distress. 

"  I  shall  come  straight  to  see  him  in  the  morn- 
ing. That  will  certainly  be  the  honest  way. 


THE  DECISION.  179 


Here  conies  your  mother ;  good-night,"  and  Paul 
bounded  along  the  well-worn  path  that  led  from 
the  rich  man's  home  to  the  rich  man's  parsonage, 
for  both  buildings  belonged  to  Lemuel  Norcross. 
The  light  from  the  toiler's  lamp  fell  on  the  path, 
a  light  to  Paul's  feet,  indeed.  In  its  ray  the 
young  man  halted  to  read  the  hour.  It  was  mid- 
night ;  as  he  looked,  the  light  went  out.  The 
toiler's  day's  work  was  done. 

Just  here,  through  the  evergreens,  the  path 
sharply  turning,  the  rays  from  his  father's  bed- 
chamber met  him ;  as  he  looked,  that  light  also 
went  out.  Standing  a  moment  under  the  stars, 
Paul  spoke  it  to  the  trees  on  the  lawn,  — 

"  Our  fathers  have  each  finished  another  day's 
work,  and  God  Almighty  can  now  write  them  in 
the  ledger." 


1 80  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


'     X. 

CARRYING   IT   OUT. 

'T^HE  morning  is  the  time  for  an  act  of  voli- 
-'-  tion ;  especially  if  you  have  slept  well.  You 
awake  already  for  sharp  and  decisive  action. 
The  problem  of  the  night  before  greets  you  at 
the  bedside,  and  offers  to  terrorize  you  as  it 
did  the  night  before ;  but  you  are  not  the  same 
person  who  went,  weary  and  affrighted,  to  that 
bed.  You  are  a  new  creature.  You  are  impa- 
tient with  this  tyrant,  your  problem.  You  spring 
up  and  throttle  him.  You  adjust  your  dress, 
and  every  button  settles  something.  You  open 
your  chamber  door,  boldly,  ready  to  meet  forty 
troubles.  Your  mind  is  thronged  with  resources, 
and  your  hands  tingle  to  begin.  What  an  hour 
for  courage  is  the  morning!  Volitions  of  the 
morning  will  accomplish  something  ere  the  sun 
goes  down.  Volitions  of  the  evening  often  fade 
like  the  mists  of  the  night. 

If  Paul  Havens  was  decided  at  night,  he  was 
invincibly  decided  in  the  morning.  He  resolved 
to  seek  his  interview  at  once  with  Mr.  Nor- 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  l8l 


cross ;  and  not  at  his  residence,  but  at  the 
factory  office.  After  breakfasting  with  his  mother 
and  sisters,  and  ascertaining  that  his  father  had 
passed  a  comfortable  night  and  was  still  sleeping, 
he  excused  himself  and  went  on.  foot  to  the 
mills. 

The  great  gates  of  the  yard  were  thrown 
obsequiously  open  to  his  ring,  by  the  lame,  little 
man  in  the  lodge.  The  gate-keeper  was,  by  the 
way,  a  pensioner,  who  had  lost  his  right  foot 
in  a  machine  which  he  once  served  skilfully  for 
the  concern.  Mr.  Norcross  would  not  let  so 
good  a  man  starve ;  by  no  means.  He  had  in- 
vented the  machine  which  hurt  him,  and  it  was 
invaluable.  Pierre  Bloc  was  a  French  Yankee. 
His  machine  was  the  sword  that  fought  Lyons, 
and  the  village  knew  it.  Cruel  machine,  that 
had  snapped  off  its  maker's  foot ;  kind  machine, 
that  had  made  it  possible  for  Lemuel  Norcross 
to  rival  Lyons,  and  so  saved  all  this  pile  of 
brick  from  bankruptcy.  Pierre  was  a  child  of 
the  Huguenots.  His  piety  was  as  true  as  his 
good  face  asserted ;  hence,  the  thing  to  do  was, 
to  pension  him,  setting  him  to  keep  this  lodge, 
and  making  him  a  deacon  in  the  village  church. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Paul,"  said  Pierre,  touch- 
ing his  skull  cap.  "The  Lord  be  with  thee,  son 


1 82  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

of  the  prophet !  The  owner  is  before  thee,  this 
early  hour,  sir;  just  gone  into  his  office." 

"Pierre,"  responded  Paul,  "give 'me  your  hand. 
It  will  do  me  good  to  take  the  hand  of  a  brave 
man,  just  now.  Your  fathers  died  for  their  faith, 
sir." 

But  beyond  the  shaking  of  the  honest  hand, 
the  young  man  paused  to  offer  no  expla- 
nations to  the  somewhat  questioning  face  of  the 
good  deacon.  Down  the  yard  the  operatives  ev- 
erywhere lifted  their  caps  to  Paul.  The  news 
was  already  old  that  he  was  to  be  master  here, 
and  the  news  was  popular  at  every  mention  of 
its  smallest  and  latest  item.  A  knot  of  fellows, 
heaving  at  a  snow-clogged  freight-car,  were  will- 
ing to  forego  their  hold  for  a  moment  to  look 
on  this  spruce,  manly  form,  and  give  good  morn- 
ing. Another  knot  of  teamsters  would  insist  in 
moving  their  great  grays,  despite  his  protest,  to 
give  the  young  partner  the  path  which  the  hoofs 
had  occupied.  Paul  might  have  noticed,  had  he 
not  been  so  pre-occupied,  the  vassalage  that  was 
offered  by  the  eyes  of  boys  and  girls,  and  strings 
of  youthful  operatives  who  dragged  their  white- 
faced  procession  in  and  out  of  doors  upon  their 
rounds  of  treadmill  toil.  His  romance  was  a 
twice-told  tale  in  every  humble  village  kitchen, 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  183 

where  these  people  talked  and  philosophized  about 
life,  the  long  winter  evenings  through.  "Paul  and 
Clara,"  it  was  behind  their  backs.  Every  village 
youth  was  Paul ;  every  village  maid  was  Clara, 
all  in  dreams. 

Paul  Havens  had  attained  the  lawful  stature  of 
a  man.  Not  one  of  these  operatives  had ;  the 
mill  atmosphere  had  stunted  all  their  growths. 
He  had  an  elastic  step  and  struck  his  heel  down 
firmly.  Not  so  these,  who  always  shuffled  wher- 
ever they  walked,  as  if  treading  along  greasy 
floors ;  and  their  tread  was  soft,  like  a  cat's 
footfall.  Paul  had  fine  co'or ;  all  these  had  pallor, 
with  pinheads  of  black  pricked  into  the  wax. 
Paul  had  been  schoolmate  to  many,  till  to  col- 
lege he,  to  moiling  they.  He  frankly  and  kindly 
met  their  gaze,  and  spoke  old  names  for  short, 
to  set  them  at  their  ease.  Many  looked  down 
and  addressed  him  as  "  Mister,"  then  studied  his 
back  and  his  fine  clothes  as  he  passed  on. 
Such  as  were  Catholics  admired  him,  or,  at  the 
worst,  envied  him.  Such  as  were  members  of  his 
father's  congregation,  fellows  of  the  old  Sunday- 
school  benches,  would  have  been  jealous  of  the 
promotion  of  the  preacher's  boy,  but  for  pleasant 
memories  of  his  unselfish  boyhood. 

As    he    pushed     on    down     the    vast    inclosure, 


1 84  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

the  rows  of  long,  low  buildings  seemed  to  draw 
themselves  up  like  troops  at  dress-parade,  await- 
ing his  command.  Every  now  and  then  he 
stopped  to  think  of  it :  the  forces  in  waiting 
for  him ;  the  snow-covered  roofs,  like  an  encamp- 
ment in  winter  quarters,  ready  to  conquer  the 
world — the  proud  commercial  world  —  for  him 
and  Andrew  Norcross,  within  the  next  five  and 
twenty  years. 

Through  an  open  door  the  hum  of  industry ; 
the  sound  that  is  like  no  other  sound  on  earth: 
a  hiss  combined  with  a  chatter  of  ten  thousand 
speakers,  not  one  of  which  has  a  soul ;  a  groan, 
mingled  with  the  lighter  sort  of  laughter,  that 
you  may  interpret  as  derision  or  flattery ;  a  sound 
that  says  to  the  office,  in  hard  times,  "  We  are 
worms,  eating  your  leaves  of  gold.  Hear  us 
consuming  you ! "  But  which  says  in  good  times, 
"We  are  increasing,  amassing,  storing.  Honey 
bees  are  we.  Buzz,  buzz ! "  To  Paul  Havens, 
the  hum  of  industry  was  disposed  to  sing  the 
most  fulsome  praises. 

The  blue  wreaths  of  smoke  from  spire-like 
chimney-stacks  declined  to  aspire  heavenward 
this  morning,  but,  taking  advantage  of  a  low 
barometrical  condition, — there  was  a  March 
"sugar-snow"  in  the  cloudy  southern  sky  evi- 


CARRYING  IT  OUT  185 

dently,  —  the  smoke  came  down  and  clothed  him, 
did  obeisance  to  him  as  the  coming  man,  and 
it  choked  him. 

"  Ahem  !  "  clearing  his  throat.  "  It  is  a  differ- 
ent sky,  a  different  atmosphere  from  last  night," 
pushing  on. 

The  office  is  to  the  mass  of  the  mill,  what 
the  eye  is  to  the  whole  head  ;  what  the  head  is 
to  the  aggregate  bones,  sinews,  and  flesh  of  the 
physical  man.  Not  a  large  building ;  its  doors 
fly  open  to  him  ;  the  envious  rows  of  clerks 
look  up  and,  biting  their  pens,  sing,  — 

"  Good  morning,"  a  long  row  of  them,  like  a 
choir  in  church.  It  is  in  voices  bass,  contralto, 
soprano,  tenor,  though  the  deep,  healthy  basses 
are  too  few. 

Not  so  confident  a  step  now ;  yet  a  nearly 
calm  exterior,  as  he  gives  and  takes  the  amiable 
salutations.  Knees  quite  shaky,  now,  as  he  ap- 
proaches that  inner  door.  He  throws  back  his 
coat,  and  fills  his  lungs  so  deeply  that,  noticing 
also  the  troubled  look  he  wears,  an  old  clerk',  just 
at  the  door,  remarked  a  moment  later,  — 

"  A  sigh  !  True  as  heaven  it  was  a  sigh  !  " 
Then  the  old  man  chuckled  ;  his  thin  lips  mum- 
bled, "  He 's  got  it,  got  it  !  the  Norcross  heart- 
ache ;  we  all  get  it."  The  misanthrope !  But 


1 86  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

then  he  had  been  here  for  years,  very  faithful  ; 
and  had  been  promoted  and  advanced,  till  he 
was  watch -dog  on  the  public  side  of  the  inner 
office-doors.  Some  men  can  never  endure  promotion. 

"  Ah,  my  boy,  expected  you ;  how 's  father  ? 
Confound  Andrew  !  Why  is  n't  the  fellow  here ! 
Like  his  father,  a  little  slow.  Seat?"  All  of 
which  the  manufacturer  had  spoken  like  light- 
ning, and  before  the  clangor  of  the  glass  doors 
had  ceased  to  echo.  He  was  seated,  and  writing 
with  one  hand  ;  he  extended  the  other,  the  left, 
in  a  backward  movement,  yet  cordial  enough,  no 
doubt  ;  he  did  not  look  up  at  Paul,  but  straight 
across  the  table,  when  it  was  necessary  to  look 
up  at  all,  and  into  the  face  of  a  stenographer, 
who  also  was  at  his  work. 

"  What  a  killing  pace  you  keep  up,  sir,"  said 
Paul,  not  knowing  which  question  to  answer,  and 
deciding  that  none  of  them  demanded  a  reply. 
He  shrank  into  the  proffered  seat  with  a  sense  of 
relief. 

"Yes.  I  can  lead  you  boys  a  dance  for  the 
next  twenty  years.  I  guess  you'll  find  —  tell  him 
not  in  the  present  state  of  the  market  —  in  my 
judgment  thirty  days  will  tell " 

The  first  sentence  flung  to  Paul,  the  second 
to  the  stenographer,  the  third,  with  a  splash  of 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  l8/ 


ink,    to  his    own    sheet    of    paper.       "  How    many 
hours    a   day   can   you    study,    my   boy  ? " 

"I  have  thought  I  could  endure  sixteen,  sir. 
But  some  say  that 's  wicked,"  Paul  replied. 

"  Wicked  ?  "  Scribble,  scribble  ;  the  pen  seemed 
to  be  laughing  aloud.  "  I  can  beat  you.  I  can 
put  in  twenty,  week  in  and  week  out.  We  shall 
learn  some  things,  sir.  Yes.  Here  to  learn  ; 
business  growing  like  a  mushroom — tell  him  I'll 
see  him  in  Botany  Bay,  first.  Write  just  that — " 
with  a  toss  of  a  letter  back  to  the  writer. 
Scribble,  dash.  "  Yes,  wish  you  were  here,  now, 
Paul.  Graduation  day  mere  form.  Cut  it  ;  come 
now.  No  ;  s'pose  't  would  grieve  your  father  and 
the  women  folks." 

After  a  while,  Paul  saw  that  it  would  be  nec- 
essary to  break  in  by  main  force  with  his  er- 
rand. He  could  not  wait,  moreover,  for  courage 
was  ebbing.  He  had  watched  for  a  chance  of 
courteous  interruption,  and  the  half-hour  had 
soon  ripened  into  an  hour  of  the  above  sort  of 
an  interview.  Not  one  man  in  a  thousand  would 
have  had  as  much  of  an  interview  as  had  been 
granted  Paul.  Mr.  Norcross  undoubtedly  consid- 
ered himself  very  gracious  ;  he  was  visiting, 
actually  visiting  with  his  future  son-in-law,  and 
in  business  hours ! 


1 88  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Paul  said,  "  Mr.  Norcross,  a  serious  errand 
brought  me  down  this  morning.  Can  not  we 
be  alone  ? " 

There  was  something  in  Paul's  voice,  when 
deeply  in  earnest,  that  compelled  attention.  Yet 
it  was  very  respectful  withal.  The  manufacturer 
straightened  back ;  looked  over  at  the  little 
writer,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  He  is  furniture," 
and  then  said,  decidedly,  impatiently  too,  though 
he  probably  did  not  intend  it  so,  for  he  put  on 
a  smile  : 

"  Well,  —  Paul,  — what  —  is   it  ?  —  say  —  on  !  " 

It  was  like  the  click  of  machinery.  The 
man's  mind  worked  like  that.  He  was  all  con- 
centration on  Paul  in  a  moment.  A  great 
business  is  a  great  mental  disciplinarian ;  superior 
to  the  modern  college,  no  doubt. 

"  You   welcome  words  to  the  point,"  Paul  said. 

"That's   me,    my   dear  feller." 

When  intensely  moved,  Mr.  Norcross  always 
lapsed  into  the  false  syntax  of  his  unschooled 
boyhood.  Paul  knew  this,  and  measured  the 
man's  intensity  thereby  at  once.  It  was  his 
usual  excitement,  when  at  work. 

"You  see  many  things  at  a  glance,"  Paul  re- 
sumed. "Expressions  of  gratitude  to,  and  friend- 
ship for,  you  and  yours,  I  sincerely  trust,  are 


CARRYING   IT  OUT.  189 


not  needed.  You  know  how  truly  attached  I 
am." 

"  I  see.  A  word's  —  n'ff  on  that  score.  The 
point." 

"  I  solemnly  assure  you,  my  dear  sir,  that  I 
feel  myself  called  of  God  to  the  Christian  min- 
istry. You  would  say  I  must  not  dare  disobey." 
There  it  was  —  out !  and  not  at  all  as  he  had 
planned  to  say  it. 

Silence  is  needed.  Let  the  patient  writer  put 
it  down.  Let  the  great  clock  on  the  wall  tick 
it  down ;  yes,  and  tick  it  out  into  the  lips  of 
the  hundred  clocks  it  regulates  in  a  hundred 
rooms  of  working  men  and  women,  and  tick  it 
up  into  the  great  dial  that  is  always  staring 
from  the  tower ;  tick  it  into  the  warp  and 
woof  of  time,  and  into  the  fabric  of  this  impe- 
rious Norcross  life,  —  a  rotten  thread,  —  a  hope- 
less disappointment,  and  the  first  of  any  conse- 
quence, but  which  makes  it  possible  to  rend  the 
whole  in  twain.  Meanwhile  the  owner  of  all 
this  has  settled  himself,  imperceptibly  more  com- 
pact, into  his  chair,  and  trained  his  keen  eyes 
on  the  destroyer  of  his  hopes. 

"That  is,  you  prefer  beggary  to  half  of  this 
wealth,  eh  ? " 

"  I   beg  of  you,"    with   great   emphasis   on  beg, 


19°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

11  not  to  misunderstand  me,  sir,"  said  Paul,  at  first 
meeting  glance  with  glance,  but  yielding  promptly 
and  casting  his  eyes  to  the  floor.  "  It  is  heaven's 
disposal  of  me,  I  believe." 

"Ye-as."  It  hardly  escaped  the  lips  compressed 
by  the  chin  forced  down  on  the  breast.  The 
posture  gave  the  changeless  eyes  a  dreadful 
gleam,  peering  from  beneath  the  beetling  brows. 
"Heaven,  eh  ?  I  have  met  this  idea  of  heaven 
ever  since  I  was  a  boy.  It  decreed  even  me  a 
beggar  by  birth  —  so  I  was  taught;  but  I  didn't 
remain  so.  Heaven  has  often  crossed  my  track, 
but  I  have  had  my  way  in  the  end.  Heaven 
denied  me  a  son.  I  took  you.  But  no;  heaven 
does  n't  meddle,  boy,  with  our  affairs,  as  you  " 
have  been  taught  to  believe.  I  'm  not  impious ; 
I  'm  horse-sense  !  " 

"  Oh,  sir,"  cried  Paul,  snatching  at  the  first 
pause,  at  the  risk  of  wrath,  "  say  not  so !  You 
believe  in  God  and  our  religion  ? " 

"  Because, "  he  went  on,  not  heeding,  "  if  heaven 
intermeddles  according  to  your  theory,  then 
heaven  and  I  have  met  in  many  a  tight  place 
where  I  came  out  ahead." 

There  must  have  been  something  in  the  young 
man's  face  that  betrayed  his  astonishment  at  the 
shocking  speech,  though  he  said  not  a  word. 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  IQ1 


"Hey?"  And  Norcross  sprang  into  erect  pos- 
ture with  a  jerk  that  spun  his  chair  back  across 
the  velvet  carpet. 

"  Pardon  me,  I  am  not  sent  to  teach  you  right 
and  wrong,"  Paul  responded  humbly,  though  it 
was  beginning  to  be  now  the  deference  of  old 
gratitude  and  new  pity,  not  of  fear. 

"  No,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  the  other  fiercely.  "  Nor 
no  other  feller  is  sent  to  stand  up  in  a  pulpit  and 
tell  me,"  with  tremendous  emphasis  on  me,  and 
an  impressive  pause,  "  tell  me  what  I  shall  do 
and  shall  not  do.  Preach  ?  Yes,  indeed.  And 
time  was  when  I  suffered  it.  But,  my  lad,  I  am 
the  peer  of  the  preachers.  I  am  one  of  the  pow- 
ers of  the  commercial  world.  I  am  accustomed 
to  have  my  own  way,  sir.  I  am  no  longer  a  de- 
pendent. Your  father  is  a  good  old  man.  But  he 
often  riles  me.  If  I  did  not  know  that  he  would 
not  dare  mean  me,  I  would  often  rise  and  rebuke 
him  for  his  pulpit  words !  Go,  preach  to  men 
like  my  brother ;  he  takes  it  for  law  and  gospel. 
But  that  's  because  he  's  the  weaker  man.  Men 
of  strength  resent  this  public  censorship  of  the 
pulpit.  And  I  tell  you,  boy,  they  are  coming  to 
do  it  more  and  more.  Go,  preach  to  the  ignorant 
and  poor ! " 

Not   altogether  without   a   certain  quiet  dignity, 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


yet  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  the  utter  mis- 
ery of  the  business,  the  young  man  arose,  saying, 
"  I  am  not  called  upon  to  defend  my  mission, 
sir.  I  leave  you  to  the  Scriptures  for  that.  If 
you  only  would  respect  me,  notwithstanding  your 
bitter  disappointment  —  " 

"  Whose  is  all  this  to  be  ?  "  with  a  swing  of 
his  hand  towards  the  enclosed  acres  of  the  mill- 
yard.  "  This  for  which  I  have  toiled  so  hard  ! 
A  dear,  pretty,  loving,  little  girl's,  who  is  utterly 
incapable  of  its  management,  as  you  must  know. 
Defenseless  I  leave  her,  heir  to  millions  that  will 
crush  her,  when  I  die.  You  —  she  loves  —  you  ! 
You  love  her,  don  't  ye  ?  " 

"  I    do,    indeed,    sir,"    gripping   his   hat    hard. 

"And  you  propose  to  tie  her  down,"  and  his 
voice  rose  a  pitch  with  every  word,  "  to  a  mean, 
small  station?  I'll  —  I'll  —  " 

"  I  wish  we  might  talk  about  her  concern  in 
the  matter,  sir,  and  —  and  calmly." 

Without  reply,  Mr.  Norcross  arose,  thrust  his 
hands  deep  into  his  pockets,  turned  his  back  on 
Paul,  and  walked  to  the  window.  He  was  cool- 
ing off.  It  was  time  to  grow  collected,  for  his 
only  idol  was  involved.  The  thought  of  the  com- 
plex hold  Paul  Havens  had  taken  on  his  life, 
was  almost  maddening.  Hence  he  repaired  to 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  1 93 

the  window.  The  carpet  was  worn  threadbare 
there.  Norcross  had  stood  by  this  window  ten 
thousand  times,  cooling  off,  plotting,  studying  the 
auguries  of  the  sky.  Fully  ten  minutes  passed. 
At  last,  when  he  could  endure  it  no  longer, 
Paul  broke  the  silence  with  "I  am  to  under- 
stand, Mr.  Norcross,  that  you  are  not  prepared 
to  say  any  thing  further  to  me,  to-day.  Is  that 
it?"  The  poor  fellow's  knuckles  ached  from 
their  kneading  on  the  table  beside  which  he  stood. 

"  Humph  !  "  exclaimed  the  manufacturer,  turn- 
ing abruptly,  though  not  advancing,  his  hands 
still  plunged  in  his  pockets.  "  You  have  me, 
there.  My  daughter  — " 

"Is,  of  course,  perfectly  free,  so  far  as  our 
engagement  is  concerned,  if  she  is  unwilling  to 
accept  the  sort  of  life  mine  must  be.  In  some 
respects,  a  life  of  trials  for  a  lady,  Mr.  Nor- 
cross, I  fully  know.  Yet  you  do  not  doubt  my 
devotion  to  her  comfort  if  she  should  elect  to 
share  my  lot.  And,  if  you  will  not  misinterpret 
my  reference  to  it,  she  would  be  placed  beyond 
reach  of  many  of  the  hardships  that  pinch  at 
the  parsonage."  Quite  calmly  the  young  man 
got  so  far  in  an  effort  at  a  peaceful  conference, 
even  yet,  if  this  imperious  man  would  only  take 
up  his  side  of  the  deliberations. 


194  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"All  of  which  you  have  urged  upon  the  young 
girl  as  ameliorating  considerations  of  her  fate, 
no  doubt." 

"  I    beg   your   pardon  !  " 

"  Oh,    I    think   you   understand  what    I    mean." 

"  I  choose  not  to  understand,  perhaps,"  said 
Paul,  toying  with  a  book  beneath  his  hand  on 
the  table,  and  fully  determined  to  get  smoothly 
over  the  hard  places,  if  possible. 

"  Now,  now,"  resumed  Mr.  Norcross,  with  ex- 
asperating persistency,  "you  and  Clara  have 
talked  this  all  over?"  pausing  with  uplifted  fore- 
finger. 

"We  have,  certainly.  That  is  a  matter  of 
course.  But  with  a  final  and  dutiful  reference 
to  you  and  her  mother,  on  Clara's  part."  He 
raised  his  handsome  face  as  he  spoke,  and  it 
was  certainly  not  ill-natured,  though  the  flush 
yet  lingered. 

"But,  Havens,  I  say,"  repeated  Norcross,  "you 
will  not  deny  that  you  have  taken  into  account 
the  fact  that  your  wife  would  bring  wealth  into 
the  parsonage  ? " 

Havens  bit  his  lip  in  silence.  Was  the  man 
irrevocably  resolved,  then,  to  be  his  enemy  ?  If 
so,  why  stay  here  a  moment  longer  and  subject 
himself  to  such  indignities  ?  Yet  a  passionate 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  1 9$ 


man  is  usually  very  changeable.  After  the  out- 
break of  a  moment  ago,  Paul  reasoned,  or  per- 
haps it  was  more  hope  and  intuition  than  reason, 
that  this  excited  gentleman  might  turn  a  sum- 
mersault any  instant,  and  make  some  repentant 
overture.  With  mighty  self-control,  therefore,  Ha- 
vens only  answered  the  charge  of  mercenariness 
with  erect  head,  bitten  lip,  and  flashing  eye. 

"  Well,  well,  Havens,"  Mr.  Nororcss  finally 
growled  out,  "  sit  down.  Let 's  talk  this  matter 
over  like  gentlemen.  That 's  right,"  as  Paul 
obeyed,  resuming  his  chair.  "You  must  admit, 
Havens,  that  I  know  more  of  this  rough,  old 
world  than  you  do.  It  ain't  worth  serving,  boy ; 
not  worth  serving.  You  '11  get  small  thanks  for 
this  theoretically  fine  life  you  propose  to  lead. 
The  days  of  heroes  are  over.  Gold  is  the  god 
now-a-days.  Confound  it !  I  do  n't  know  but  I 
ought  to  blush  to  say  it  to  a  young  fellow  like 
you,  full  of  a.  mighty  generosity;  but  you're  no 
fool,  and  you  '11  soon  find  it  out.  And  I  do 
honestly  like  you,  Paul ;  you  always  struck  my 
fancy.  I  would  ha'  made  a  merchant  prince  of 
ye,  Paul,"  with  a  slap  on  Paul's  knee.  "And  I 
say,  my  son,"  while  his  small  iron  hand  clutched 
Paul's  knee  and  shook  it  with  rough  —  almost 
shall  we  say,  affection,  for  the  moment  ?  — "  my 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


son,  I  say,  I  can't  give  it  up  yet.  I  won't  give 
it  up!  I  never  give  up  a  reg'lar  plan  once 
well  thought  out.  Hey?" 

He  bent  round  to  look  full  into  Paul's  face, 
while  over  the  hard,  strong  features,  usually  all 
intellect  and  no  heart,  there  stole  a  warmer 
glow  than  Paul  remembered  ever  to  have  seen 
Lemuel  Norcross  wear.  The  eyes,  too,  were  not 
so  dry  as  usual  ;  but  then,  for  that  matter,  eyes 
may  grow  moist  from  many  passions  and  from 
the  reaction  after  any  passion  has  subsided. 

As  for  Paul,  why,  with  a  sudden  flood  of 
boyish  emotion,  unselfish,  beautiful,  and  possible 
to  youth,  he  could  have  hugged  the  little  man 
and  lifted  him  out  of  his  chair.  Yet,  there  was 
always  a  superiority  in  Lemuel  Norcross  which 
forbade  much  familiarity ;  so  Paul  contented  him- 
self with  warmly  grasping  the  hand  on  his  knee 
and  exclaiming  fervently, — 

"  You  make  it  almost  impossible  for  me  to  do 
any  thing  but  please  you,  my  kind,  good  friend ! " 

"  I  thought  so,"  with  a  really  full-born  smile. 
"  I  say,  Havens,  though  I  'm  older  and  have 
sort  o'  felt  a  property-right  in  you,  and  especially 
on  my  little .  girl's  account,  yet  it  was  not  the 
square  thing  in  me  to  forget  myself  so  in  Icttin* 
fly  a  moment  ago " 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  IQ7 

"Don't  speak  of  it,  sir.  I  —  I  hope  you  will 
not  think  of  asking  —  of  making  apologies." 

And  yet  a  moment  ago  it  needed  all  his 
memories  of  Clara  and  of  the  sacred  scenes 
through  which  he  had  just  passed,  to  stop  his  lips 
from  demanding  a  very  full  apology !  The  in- 
stant that  it  came,  however,  decently  frank,  con- 
sidering the  man  and  his  years,  Paul  felt  the 
shame-faced  regret  that  younger  men  generally 
do  over  the  contrition  of  their  'elders. 

"  It  's  a  bad  habit  I  get  into,  of  pushing 
things,  my  lad.  Now,  of  course  you  can't  be 
driven  —  of  course  not." 

Mr.  Norcross  was  not  simulating  all  this  change 
of  method ;  it  was  simply  a  phase  of  his  pas- 
sion. You  could  see  that  he  was  yet  deeply 
agitated  :  his  voice  trembled,  his  wiry  frame 
shook,  his  whole  being  was  high-strung  for  the 
grapple  in  which  defeat  seemed  worse  to  him 
than  the  burning  of  half  his  factories.  "  Now 
you  will  reconsider  your  resolution,  Havens.  I 
am  persuaded  you  will.  We  have  been  over  this 
ground  before,  you  know,  you  and  I.  You  re- 
member, up  to  the  house  there.  You  '11  acknowl- 
edge that  I  met  your  arguments  to  satisfaction, 
that  evening  ? " 

"Yes,    sir,"    replied    Paul,    almost    breaking  in; 


198  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

for,  poor  fellow,  he  began  to  fear  for  himself 
again.  God  forbid  that  he  should  ever  open  the 
actual  question  again !  "  But  at  that  time  my 
own  mind  was  not  made  up.  I  was  very  grate- 
ful to  you " 

"Exactly;  I  remember  you  said  so.  Cigar?" 
lighting  one  himself:  a  sign  of  decided  relaxation, 
for  he  never  smoked  till  business  was  over. 
This  business  was  nearly  over.  We  shall  soon 
have  this  affair  straightened  out.  One  is  on  the 
right  tack  now,  —  the  kind,  the  rational  tack. 
Though,  confound  it !  we  are  rather  disappointed 
in  the  boy :  supposed  he  was  more  iron,  and 
less  soft  wood.  Is  n't  just  the  kind  o'  stuff  for 
this  business.  But  perhaps  the  piety  of  it  is  the 
weak  element ;  that  once  converted  to  the  new 
and  modern  type  of  decent  behavior,  and  none 
o'  this  wild  fervor,  why,  he  may  be  all  right 
yet.  At  any  rate,  Clara 's  involved ;  she  must 
have  some  decent  man,  we  suppose.  "Cigar,  I 
say,  Paul?" 

"  Why,  no,  Mr.  Norcross,  if  you  please.  I  Ve 
given  it  up." 

"  By    George,    you   have  !     How   so  ?  " 

"  It  's  not  worth  mentioning.  But  I  have. 
Clara  disliked  it ;  so  did  my  parents ;  and  it 
seemed  a  small  thing  to  gratify  them  with.  Be- 


CARRYING  IT  OUT.  199 

skies,  I  could  n't  stand  it.  Why,  Mr.  Norcross, 
you  've  no  idea  how  wrought  up  I  've  been 
over  this  question  of  my  calling  in  life.  For 
the  last  term  in  college  my  nerves  nearly  gave 
way.  I  would  n't  attempt  to  traverse  that 
ground  again,  were  it  to  buy  a  world  of  happy 
days ! " 

"  So,  so ! "  Rather  sung  out  between  puffs, 
with  elbow  on  table,  cigar  between  trembling 
fingers,  and  fine  head  nodding  out  "  You  do 
not  tell  me  !  " 

"Yes,  sir.  Believe  me,  this  question  has 
almost  cost  me  my  life!"  Hand  flittened  out 
on  table,  body  leaning  forward,  and  every  line 
of  the  eloquent  face  asserting  the  speaker's 
truth. 

Silence  again,  with  thoughtful  regard  of  the  end 
of  the  cigar,  from  which  the  thin  curling  smoke 
may  be  a  type  of  our  hope  to  dissuade  him ; 
and  the  fire  beneatii  the  ashes  yet  living 
to  our  little  finger's  touch,  type  of  the  un- 
quenched  purpose  in  this  young  heart.  Features 
hardening  again.  Eyes  beginning  to  snap  once 
more.  May  be  more  to  the  boy,  after  all,  than 
we  have  ever  yet  supposed.  Good  timber.  The 
more  the  pity  to  waste  it  on  sentiment.  Good 
timber  to  lean  on  !  Good  timber  to  try  to 


200  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

break,  also !  Contempt  gone.  Might  even  hate 
him.  You  know  a  man  begins  to  hate  the 
enemy  whom  he  has  ceased  to  contemn. 

"  Then  you  give  me  no  hope  that  I  could 
convince  you  that  you  are  wrong-headed,  Paul ; 
wouldn  't  come  up  to  the  house  to-night,  and  in 
my  den  open  the  whole  subject?" 

"My  dear  sir,"  cried  Paul,  in  tones  of  genu- 
ine distress,  "  I  would  rather  die  at  once  than  to 
re-enact  this  tragedy !  Believe  me,  in  God's  name, 
believe  me  !  It  has  been  to  me  a  mortal  tragedy. 
Now,  listen,  if  you  will  be  so  indulgent ;  only  last 
night  with  my  father " 

"  Oh,  it  is  n't  worth  while,  Havens  !  "  Mr.  Nor- 
cross  exclaimed,  like  a  flash,  yet  his  tones  cold 
as  ice.  Fire  and  ice  in  an  angry  man's  tones : 
you  have  observed  both,  reader.  But,  as  for  me, 
I  'd  rather  encounter  the  fire ;  especially  in  the 
tones  of  a  quick-tempered  man.  For  ice  is  the  last 
and  unchangeable  state  of  such  a  mind's  animosity. 

"  But  heaven  help  us  not  to  break  off  thus, 
sir.  I  will  do  any  thing  in  the  world  to  be 
approved  of  you,  for  Clara's  sake,  and  my  grati- 
tude for  past  kindness, — any  thing  but  that." 

"That's   the   one  thing." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Norcross,  that's  between  a  man 
and  his  God!" 


CARRYING  IT  OUT,  2OI 

"Well.     Leave   it   there." 

"That    is " 

"That  is,  we  say  goodbye,  here  and  now.  I 
hope,  for  your  sake,  you  have  said  goodbye  at 
the  house,  for  you  are  not  the  man,  I  s'pose, 
to  attempt  to  go  there  after  I  've  said  you 
must  n't." 

Paul  groaned  aloud  with  indignation,  chagrin, 
grief,  and  unspeakable  heart-ache.  In  his  secret 
thought,  for  the  instant,  he  half  resolved  that 
he  would,  just  once  more,  revisit  that  house. 
He  grasped  again  his  hat  and  stepped  to  the 
door.  Suddenly  it  dawned  upon  him  that  he 
might  not  be  the  only  victim  of  this  powerful 
man's  resentment.  The  thought  thrilled  him  in- 
describably. Should  he  attempt  to  shield  his 
father  ?  He  would,  at  least,  say,  "  One  word 
more :  my  father  is  your  pastor." 

"Yes,   for   the   present." 

Paul  took  the  hint  and  fairly  ground  his  teeth, 
as,  utterly  losing  self-control,  he  exclaimed,  "Spare 
yourself  the  trouble  of  discharging  my  father  in 
person.  Don't  attempt  it,  sir!  I  assure  you,'he 
will  resign.  Good  day!" 


202  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


XI. 

ON   THE  ICE. 

T3UT  Paul  Havens  did  not  go  straight  to  the 
••— '  Norcross  mansion.  It  was,  in  the  first 
place,  a  good  mile  away.  The  open  air  was  an 
elixir  to  the  already  turbulent  soul.  Instead  of 
tranquilizing,  the  desperate  walking  excited  him. 
His  strong,  healthy  body  seemed  to  partake  now 
of  his  mental  agitation  and  to  feel  it.  No  doubt 
it  would  be  romantic  to  send  him  straight  to 
Clara ;  and  it  would  be  conventional  to  fill  his 
heart  with  religious  felicity.  But  the  truth  must 
be  written.  Hard,  stern  facts,  of  the  earth  earthy, 
stood  so  staring  this  young  gentleman  in  the 
face,  that  he  acted  at  once  a  very  unromantic 
and  a  most  human  part.  He  was  not  in  despair, 
nor  did  he  feel  dismayed.  But  he  had  to  ac- 
knowledge, with  every  added  moment  of  his 
physical  exertion,  a  sense  of  hands  clenched, 
teeth  set,  and  shoulders  braced  against  tremen- 
dous and  near  adversities.  He  fairly  ached  to 
grapple  with  his  loads.  He  grew  too  iron-like, 
as  he  buffeted  the  wind ;  too  much  like  a  glad- 


ON  THE  ICE.  203 


iator,  as  he  termed  it  to  himself ;  he  was  too 
defiant  to  go  meet  that  gentle,  troubled  girl, 
who  had  never  in  her  petted  life  felt  the  need 
of  desperate  strength,  and,  therefore,  would  not 
understand  him  in  his  present  mood. 

And  then,  too,  no  man  knows  just  what  he 
will  do  when  an  avalanche  begins  to  thunder 
above  him.  Mozart  told  his  troubles  to  the 
keys ;  the  Great  Frederick  to  his  flute  and  dogs. 
Some  men  go  talk  to  a  favorite  horse  and  drive 
him,  while  self-possession  is  returning  again.  As 
good  a  thing  as  you  can  do  is  to  be  a  boy 
again,  if  you  can  retreat  so  far,  and  take  refuge 
in  some  youthful  pleasure  that  was  once  the  busi- 
ness, and  may  now  prove  a  divertisement  of  life. 
Paul  Havens  was  a  boy  not  so  very  long  before. 
He  suddenly  thought  of  it,  and  almost  laughed 
to  think  of  it.  It  would  afford  such  vent  and 
outgo  for  this  all-consuming  virile  force  that 
otherwise  threatened  to  rend  him.  It  was  some- 
thing to  do,  at  a  moment  when  so  suddenly  ex- 
istence seemed  resolved  into  doing  every  thing 
and  doing  it  all  in  a  moment.  Skates! 

He  entered  the  pretty  little  home,  hoping  to 
meet  no  one.  He  went  softly  to  his  father's 
study  under  the  gable  roof,  which,  in  the  tiny 
cottage,  had  also  been  his  boyish  bed-chamber. 


204  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

His  bed  had  always  been  in  sight  of  books,  in 
every  parsonage  the  family  had  inhabited.  His 
father  was  not  there,  and  he  entered.  A  lot  of 
the  boy's  toys  hung  undisturbed  about  the  walls. 
His  childhood's  books  stood  on  the  shelves  be- 
side the  volumes  of  theology  —  such  was  his 
father's  tender  whim.  The  old  strapped  skates 
weighted  down  a  pile  of  dusty  sermons  on  an 
upper  shelf.  There  were  two  pairs,  one  which  his 
father  used  to  wear  when  teaching  the  lad,  not 
skating  only,  but  trust  and  companionship  with 
his  sire  as  well. 

Paul  threw  the  steels  over  his  shoulder,  and 
then  bent  down  a  moment  to  open  a  little 
drawer  in  the  desk.  He  knew  where  to  look. 
He  took  out  the  savings-bank  book  which  bore 
his  father's  name  and  opened  it.  He  slowly 
turned  leaf  after  leaf,  and  noted  the  pinching, 
painful  economy  that  the  small  deposits  witnessed. 
Not  that  it  was  fresh  information ;  but  it  was 
never  so  interesting  before.  What  a  family  his- 
tory this  leather-covered  record  told !  The  months 
without  a  deposit,  and  then  the  draft,  two 
drafts  ;  and  the  dipping  out  and  draining  that 
almost  showed  the  gravel  at  the  bottom  of  the 
shallow  well. 

"That   was   the   darkest    year,"    Paul    said,   and 


ON  THE  ICEt  205 


his  lips  quivered  as  he  spoke.  "  The  dreadful 
year  when  mother  was  so  ill." 

But  a  little  farther  on,  the  poor  boy  bowed 
his  head  quite  down  upon  the  desk,  clutching  the 
book  like  a  vise.  He  read  the  story  of  his  fa- 
ther's fond  subtractions  to  give  his  son  an  edu- 
cation. He  straightened  himself  up  to  his  full 
height.  He  grasped  at  the  book -cases,  and 
swayed  with  pent-up  emotion.  He  gnawed  at  his 
lips,  that  he  might  not  break  forth  like  a  child. 
Then  he  spoke,  low  and  almost  sobbing,  to  the 
empty  study  chair,  as  if  his  father  now  was  sit- 
ting there. 

"  God  bless  you  for  your  love,  sir.  I  knew  it, 
all  along.  Have  I  not  the  same  account,  in  du- 
plicate, of  every  sacred  penny  ?  Please  God  I  be 
yet  worthy !  I  had  hoped  to  pay  the  other  half, 
as  I  have  already  earned  half.  Oh,  why  did  I  not 
break  my  back  to  earn  all,  and  save  you  these 
now  needed  charges  ?  A  paltry  six  hundred  dol- 
lars, between  this  home  and  homelessness,  this 
day  !  Oh,  my  God,  have  I  done  right  ?  Yes,  yes, 
he  himself  was  so  happy  and  would  say  I  had ! 
And  my  own  heart  still  approves.  But  how  shall 
I  bear  this  burden  if  I  bear  thine,  O  Lord  ? " 

With  a  desperate  movement  he  turned  and  fled 
out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  narrow  stairs. 


206  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

His  heavy  footfall,  on  the  thin  rag-woveri  carpet 
stair,  betrayed  him.  His  mother  came  out  of  the 
sitting-room,  lifting  her  knitting  in  her  hands, 
with  questioning  and  startled  gesture. 

"  Paul  ? "  she  faltered  out.  "  Why,  I  did  not 
know  you  were  in  the  house!  What — what  is 
the  matter?  Papa  is " 

That  was  a  fortunate  suggestion.  He  caught 
at  it  instantly ;  and  there  was  no  deception  in 
it,  though  he  did  suffer  this  frail  woman  to 
suppose  that  his  agitation,  which  she  must  so 
plainly  see,  was  owing  to  anxiety  about  his 
father ;  for  was  it  not  so  ? 

"Where  is  father,  mother?  Not  in  the  study, 
I  find."  He  spoke  very  calmly,  to  reassure  this 
invalid,  who  must  be  spared ;  and  yet,  how  could 
she  be  spared  or  shielded  many  hours  longer  ? 

"  He  has  insisted  on  going  out  to  see  some 
few  sick,  my  son.  He  told  me  of  his  last  night's 
distress.  But,  while  I  think  him  better  off  at 
home,  yet  I  do  not  worry.  Do  not  distress 
yourself,  my  dear  child ;  papa  is  only  worn  a 
little.  We  shall  all  be  better  soon,  you  know." 

Better  soon  ?  Poor,  smiling,  hopeful  heroine, 
thinking  of  rest,  —  how  soon  ?  Puss  Norcross, 
perhaps  you  were  right  —  the  rest  that  remaineth 
for  the  people  of  God. 


ON  THE  ICE,  207 


But  one  can  not  endure  it.  One  must  get 
out  into  the  open  air,  into  solitude,  into  hard, 
fierce  doing  something,  or  one  will  faint  here 
like  a  coward. 

"  Mother,  my  head  is  aching.  Tell  them  all 
that  I  'm  going  to  cure  it  by  getting  the  blood 
down  into  my  heels.  I  '11  be  in  after  an  hour 
or  two." 

"  But  Paul,  Clara  has  been  over  here  twice 
this  morning,  and  —  and  —  is  any  thing  wrong, 
my  child  ?  She  looked  so  anxious.  I  never  saw 
her  wear  such  a  look  before." 

He  stepped  quickly  down  from  the  last  stair, 
to  approach  her,  and  to  take  her  slight  shoulders 
between  his  hands,  in  tender,  familiar,  chivalric 
approach,  and  to  say, — 

"Nothing  is  wrong,  little  mamma.  Indeed, 
every  thing  is  just  right,  or  trying  to  right 
itself ;  and  that,  too,  by  a  very  lofty  rule  of 
right :  namely,  God's  rule !  Now,  go  in  for  your 
midday  nap,"  and  he  kissed  her.  But  he  waited 
too  long ;  it  was  a  half  second  by  the  lady's 
old-fashioned  watch, —  gift  of  the  judge,  her  father, 
in  the  old  days  of  wealth,  —  which  she  consulted, 
obedient  to  the  hint  as  to  napping  time. 

"  Shall  I  not  send  Clara  and  the  girls  ?  You 
know  how  fond  they  all  are  of  skating ;  but 


208  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


ladies    need   an  escort  of   late,  the   factory  urchins 
and   lads   are   so   rude." 

.  "No,    mother;    I'm   going   to    seek   very   violent 
exercise   for   my   head  —  and  wish    to   be   alone." 

Alone  on  the  ice !  Alone  and  single-handed 
in  the  world!  Alone,  yet  with  a  feeling  of 
competence  as  against  miles  and  leagues  of  it, 
and  strength  as  against  the  whole  heavens  full 
of  it  —  the  uprising  wind  bearing  onward  the 
great-flaked  "sugar-snow"  very  soon. 

Whither  away?  Any  whither,  so  one  moves 
with  the  wind.  The  strides,  swinging  long 
and  gallantly ;  swinging  with  a  vengeance  that 
is  like  pent-up  desperation ;  and  every  stride  takes 
one  forward  a  hundred  feet  in  this  wind.  Swing- 
ing and  swung  till  one  lies  out  upon  the  wind, 
a  toy,  or  a  speck,  if  you  please,  in  this  great 
white  waste  that  stretches  up  the  river,  —  a  dead 
world ;  a  world  without  a  sound  and  without  a 
path ;  a  world  into  which  one  is  being  carried 
without  choice,  and  yet  without  wish  to  decline 
to  go.  It  is  like  one's  future, — this  white,  bleak, 
pathless,  grand  wilderness  of  ice,  of  fleecy  meadow 
and  airy,  tumbled  hill  masses  on  either  side. 
Like  one's  future,  save  that  this  track  must  be 
retraced ;  the  burdens  are  left  behind  and  must 
be  sought  and  taken  up  again.  Many  a  troubled 


ON  THE  ICE.  2O9 


heart  has  sighed  for  wings.  Paul  has  wings ; 
that  is  the  sensation.  An  hour  of  it,  and  how 
far  the  wings  have  taken  their  flight !  It  is  well 
to  think  of  returning ;  it  is  probably  time.  One 
thrust  more,  free  as  air,  blithe  as  a  boy ;  one 
more !  one  more !  for  it  may  be  the  last  boy's 
play  for  a  lifetime.  And  now  turn ! 

It  is  quite  time ;  the  wind  is  almost  a  gale. 
The  convenient  shelter  of  island  and  lea 
shore  will  be  welcome.  Tack  and  tack  again, 
beating  back.  He  will  work  the  congestion  into 
his  heels,  no  doubt,  readily  enough,  righting  for 
a  thousand  feet  like  a  battle,  and  for  a  mile 
like  a  campaign.  There  is  need  of  care,  too,  for 
a  sugar-snow  is  a  most  blinding  thing ;  it  is 
damp  and  heavy  as  lead.  It  is  filling  the  whole 
heavens  now. 

What  is  that !  A  woman  ?  And  so  far  out 
from  the  shore,  in  this  bay  ?  Within  a  mile  of 
Lake  Taskat  ?  A  pond-like  lake,  to  be  sure,  but 
a  fatal  ocean  to  a  woman  whose  skirts  are  full- 
set  sails,  and  whose  strength  is  so  frail  where  a 
man's  almost  fails  !  If  one  had  been  upon  the 
other  tack,  or  just  past  those  evergreens,  he 
would  not  have  seen  her  at  all. 

Who  can  she  be  ?  There  is  only  one  woman 
in  the  town  who  can  skate  like  that.  Shout  it ! 


210  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"Clara!  Clara!"  Oh,  pitiless  sky  and  winds, 
let  the  word  reach  her. 

Poor  little  thing.  She  is  not  skating,  not 
making  a  thrust,  as  is  plain  enough  to  be 
seen.  She  is  long  past  such  effort,  and  is 
husbanding  all  her  feeble  strength,  with  de- 
cidedly good  economy,  holding  herself  together 
and  on  her  feet,  helpless,  adrift  before  the 
gale ! 

"  She  has  those  miserable  rockers ! "  impa- 
tiently exclaims  Paul,  bending  low  and  calculat- 
ing well  the  best  ways  for  such  desperate  effort 
as  will  be  needed.  "Rockers  can  not  breakup. 
Clara !  Do  you  not  hear  me  ?  Try  to  cut  the 
circle  backward,  towards  me !  " 

Whether  that  small,  dim  figure  heard  or  not, 
who '  can  say  ?  The  noise  of  the  storm  was  a 
deep  roar  just  here,  because  of  the  growling 
hemlocks  that  clothed  the  shore  bluff  at  this 
point.  But  the  young  man  did  not  wait  to  know 
what  heed  she  took.  With  gigantic  sweeps  he 
was  already  "cutting  the  circle"  out  into  the 
almost  resistless  blast ;  and  with  good  effect,  too, 
for  he  certainly  was  nearing  her.  If  he  had 
engineered  his  are  well  he  would  surely  inter- 
cept the  lost  girl  before  she  reached  the  rough 
ice  of  the  wilderness  lake.  He  will  do  it !  Now 


CN  THE  ICE. 


look  up.  She  is  swinging  her  muff.  Hark ! 
She  utters  a  faint  cry,  — 

"  —  am    going   to    turn  —  " 

He  stands  upon  his  heels !  How  helpless  he 
would  be  now  with  your  "  rockers."  But  even 
erection  like  his  can  not  break  up  such  fearful 
velocity,  though  it  avails  somewhat.  Two  spurs 
of  ice-dust,  two  tiny  streams  of  hissing,  white 
ice-powder  fly  for  rods  about  his  steels.  If  this 
snow-storm  were  only  an  hour  older,  its  deposits 
would  help  on  this  polished  surface  ;  but  instead 
of  that,  it  forms  billows,  that  roll  up  in  the 
March  gusts  and  obscure  every  object  as  they 
chase  each  other  madly  far  out  on  the  lake. 
Both  he  and  she  can  now  hear  full  well  the 
fearful  pandemonium  which  the  winds  are  making 
out  in  the  grim,  gray,  impenetrable  wilderness 
beyond. 

Clara  has  thrown  herself,  left  side,  to  the  blast," 
Her  small,  strong  feet  —  how  he  watches  them 
manoeuvre  magnificently !  Tiny  toe  behind  tiny 
heel,  backward  circling,  with  flutter  of  hateful, 
fettering  furs  and  petticoat.  Yet  steadily,  for 
life !  Toe  behind  heel,  toe  behind  heel,  cutting 
the  backward  circle  towards  him. 

He  has  calculated  his  sweep  excellently.  It 
all  remains  with  her  now.  The  strategem  against 


212  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

the  storm  is,  that  these  two  half  circles  shall 
impinge  upon  each  other.  Will  they?  A  moment, 
a  second,  more  and  we  shall  know.  Now  crouch 
down,  sir,  that  the  loved  burden  does  not  hurl 
you  both  off  your  feet.  Stretch  out  your  hands. 

"  Whirl !  Clara !  "  for  they  are  locked  in  each 
other's  arms.  "The  waltz  step,  child!  Quick! 
do  not  give  up ! "  And  they  are  spinning  round 
and  round  like  a  top,  breathless,  dazed,  dizzy, 
but,  thank  God,  safe!  They  are  not  now  the 
sport  of  the  storm.  These  four  good  feet, — the 
gigantic  and  the  small  —  are  more  than  a  match 
for  the  elements.  They  are  being  shot  towards 
the  sheltering  shore. 

Half  spent  with  their  exertion,  the  couple 
agreed  to  make  the  best  of  their  way  to  the 
covert  of  a  spruce-  and  pine-clothed  island  —  a 
mere  pile  of  picturesque  rocks,  in  whose  crevices 
none  but  the  hardy  fir-trees  of  the  north  would 
ever  attempt  to  find  root-room.  Without  much 
difficulty,  the  young  lady  and  gentleman  reached 
it,  and,  for  a  moment,  threw  themselves  into  the 
snow-bank,  for  breath.  The  trees  entirely  cut 
off  the  dread  March  wind.  In  another  moment 
Havens  had  whipped  out  the  ever-ready  jack- 
knife,  splintered  the  skeleton-roots  of  an  over- 
turned pine,  which  was  dry  as  tinder,  and  then 


ON  THE  ICE.  213 


with  a  swift  search  here  and  there,  got  fuel 
enough  for  a  royal  bonfire.  As  the  flames  leaped 
up  so  cheerily,  the  young  lady's  tongue  got 
loosened. 

"I'm  a  good — good  mind  to  cry,  now,  Paul 
Havens,"  she  began,  rapping  her  toes  together 
and  thrusting  them  close  up  to  the  embers, 
while  she  peeped  at  him  over  her  muff. 

"  I  would  n't,  Miss  Patient,"  he  replied,  kneel- 
ing on  one  knee  at  her  feet,  and  working  hard 
yet  at  the  fire.  "You  are  a  gallant  little  girl, 
though  I  ought,  no  doubt,  to  say  a  very  adven- 
turous young  miss,  to  start  off  up  this  river  all 
alone " 

"You  —  you  know  very  well,  Paul  Havens,  why 
I  came.  You  are  a  downright  naughty  boy,  sir! 
You  keep  me  in  suspense  all  day,  and  you  go 
home  to  leave  a  dreadful  impression  on  your 
mamma,  and  you  hint  something  shocking  and 
desperate  about  —  about  your  being  sick,  and  then 
you  are  gone ! " 

She  was  growing  lovely  every  second ;  cheeks 
like  roses,  eyes  flashing  and  filling  with  tears 
from  the  excitement  of  her  peril  and  her  griev- 
ance over  a  lover's  neglect,  and  her  lips  curling 
like  a  child's  when  just  ready  to  burst  into  a 
real  fit  of  sobbing;  but  of  course  she  would 


214  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 

not.  Not  she !  And  the  flash  of  indignant  will 
was  the  one  bit  more  of  color  needed  to  com- 
plete the  wonderful  picture. 

"And  so  you  were  willing  to  throw  your  life 
away  ? " 

"  Not  that  at  all,  sir,  if  you  please.  To  be 
sure,  I  felt  kindly  towards  you " 

"Did  you,  indeed?"  he  said,  and  laughed  so 
frankly  that  this  pretence  of  wrath  all  thawed 
out  of  her  bright  face,  and  she  surrendered  it 
to  a  laugh  in  reply. 

"But  I  really  and  truly  was  caught  in  the 
wind,  Paul.  I  did  n't  really  mean  to  follow  you 
clear  up  here ;  I  am  not  so  simple.  And  it  is 
very  lovely  in  you,  my  hero,  that  you  saved  my 
life  —  after  having  been  the  occasion  of  its  peril. 
And  you  never  did  save  my  life  before  now, 
did  you,  after  the  story-book  fashion  ?  Do  please 
stop  mending  the  fire,  and  come  sit  down  here 
by  my  side.  There ! "  Then  nestling  close  up 
to  him,  she  asked,  "Why  did  you,  now,  really, 
come  up  here?  To  be  alone?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  found  me,  just  the  same,  up  here, 
as  if  you  had  come  over,  like  a  good  boy,  to 
our  house  and  told  me  all  about  your  battle 
with  papa." 


ON  THE  ICE.  215 


"How   do   you    know    I    had   any   battle?" 

"  How  docs  a  woman  know  any  thing  and 
every  thing,  you  child?" 

"  But  I  fear,  Miss  Sunshine,  that  you  do  not 
appreciate  how  very  grave  a  crisis  our  two  lives 
have  reached,"  he  said,  dropping  his  elbows  to 
his  knees  and  toying  with  the  fagots. 

"Dear  me!  No.  And  just  now  I  have  your 
mamma's  complaint  —  I'm  ready  to  fly.  But,  oh, 
Paul,  it  does  seem  that  every  thing  has  been  get- 
ting so  grave,  and  so  much  crisis !  crisis !  It  used 
to  be  a  happy  world.  You  used  to  be  happy. 
Now  we  are  all  sober,  sad,  and  grave,  as  you 
call  it.  Is  this  what  we  are  to  expect  in  real 
life?" 

"We?" 

"  Yes,  we !  I  am  not  afraid  of  papa ;  he  is 
always  good  to  me." 

"  Ah,  Clara !  Clara !  You  never  saw  him 
thwarted  as  he  is  now.  Why,  child,  I  would 
not  dare  to  take  you  away  from  him,  in  his 
present  frame  of  mind.  He  is  terribly  defeated. 
He  thinks  his  life  is  going  to  end  in  failure. 
He  is  gloomy  and  desperate  enough  for  any 
course  that  promises  relief." 

"We  will  laugh  him  out  of  it.  I  will  laugh 
you  out  of  your  dumps.  Why,  what  a  forlorn 


2l6  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

clergyman  you  would  be  without  poor  me  to 
shock  you, — and  your  congregation,  too,  I  fear, 
—  into  some  fun  and  merriment !  " 

"  I  know  how  true  you  speak,"  he  responded, 
looking  very  tenderly  on  her,  and  speaking  very 
slowly  that  his  earnest  words  might  penetrate 
her  excited  mood.  "But,  Clara,  as  for  the 
church,  I  shall  not  seek  one  which  is  already 
established." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  !  Our  family,  — 
that  is,  uncle  William  would  do  any  thing  for 
you.  "  Papa  and  he  have  given  ever  so  many 
thousands  of  dollars  to  the  denomination,  and " 

"And  your  father  can  play  with  the  pastorates 
like  moving  on  a  checker-board.  He  has  fully 
resolved  to  black-ball  me,  —  as  we  would  say  in 
Psi  Upsilon"  and  he  pointed  to  the  badge  of 
this  college  fraternity,  which  she  wore  on  her 
scarf. 

"  Never,  Paul,  never !  My  father  would  not 
descend  to  such  mean  revenges ! " 

"  Would  not  ?  He  has  ordered  my  father  to 
resign  this  pastorate  !  " 

She  simply  stared  at  him  in  blank  astonish- 
ment. 

"And  he  shall  not  have  the  opportunity  to 
pursue  me.  We  are  all  going,  Clara.  I  shall 


ON  THE  ICE. 


take  them  all  away.  I  must  begin  with  nothing 
but  a  warm  heart  and  the  people.  But  there 
are  people  enough.  I  will  find  sick  to  visit, 
unhappy  to  comfort,  tempted  to  defend,  ignorant 
to  instruct ;  and  I  can  point  them  to  the  Sav- 
iour. They  will  feed  me  and  my  father's  family, 
for  they  are  grateful,  are  the  poor.  It  is  the 
apostolic  way.  I  build  on  no  man's  foundation. 
The  great  cities  are  thronged  full  of  the  needy. 
What  is  it,  are  you  cold  ? " 

"No  —  that  is,  I  think  I  am  not,"  she  replied, 
releasing  herself  with  a  shuddering  motion,  and 
getting  upon  her  feet.  "  But  I  want  to  get  back, 
Paul." 

There  was  something  startling  in  her  distressed 
and  alarmed  look.  Paul  sprang  instantly  to  her 
side  and,  encircling  her,  said,  "you  are  right, 
my  dearest.  It  was  cruel  for  me  to  enter  so 
much  as  on  the  beginning  of  my  plans  in  such 
a  place.  The  storm  is  very  heavy.  We  can 
never  skate  back.  We  must  climb  to  yonder  high- 
way and  walk  to  the  nearest  farm-house.  Let 's 
see"  —  consulting  his  watch  —  "yes,  the  Brook- 
land  stage  will  be  along  very  shortly.  Let  me 
take  off  your  skates." 

She  submitted  to  his  kind  offices  in  silence. 
Then  in  silence  she  took  his  arm.  In  silence 


2l8  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

she  obeyed  his  careful  instructions  as  to  foot- 
holds, while  they  climbed  the  sharp  aclivity,  up 
through  the  dwarf  hemlocks  and  ice-varnished 
boulders  to  the  highway,  which  lay  like  a  collar 
on  the  headland's  neck.  It  was  a  difficult  scram- 
ble at  best,  more  than  a  hundred  feet  up,  and 
at  an  angle  of  forty  degrees  or  so,  at  the  easiest 
discoverable  spot.  Paul  had  frequently  to  almost 
lift  Clara  in  his  arms,  which  was  no  small  task, — 
the  plump  burden.  Still  she  kept  her  silence. 
Paul  knew  the  resolute  girl  too  well  to  disturb 
her  present  refuge  which  she  had  evidently  taken 
in  meditation  and  planning. 

At  length  they  gained  the  highway ;  a  sharp 
walk  of  a  few  moments  brought  them  to  a  bend 
in  the  road,  and  the  mere  porch  of  a  farm  labor- 
er's hut,  which  was  gleaming  out  welcomely  from 
two  little  windows,  for  the  twilight  was  shading 
down.  It  was  not  till  they  stood  shaking  the 
snow  from  each  others'  garments,  in  the  low 
porch,  and  awaiting  an  answer  to  Paul's  knock, 
that  Clara  said,— 

"Listen,    now,   dear   Paul." 

"Always.  You  shall  never  speak  that  I  will 
not  listen.  Remember  that,  whatever  comes." 

"I   will   plead   with   papa." 

"No,    Clara.      You    will    think    better    of    that. 


ON  THE  ICE.  219 


Can  you  not  see  ?  —  or,  pardon  me,  I  should  have 
said  you  can  see  that  that  would  compromise  me, 
for  you  are  rich  and  I  am  poor,  and  here  we 
are,  so  your  father  would  say,  plotting  to  mend 
my  fortunes  by  pulling  at  his  heart-strings 
through  you." 

She  stood  so  nonplussed  for  a  moment,  with 
all  her  imperious  little  girlish  plans  of  affection- 
ately storming  her  father,  or  of  using  her  own 
ample  pocket-money  if  that  failed,  fairly  stifling 
her.  She  recalled,  instantly,  how  powerless  she 
had  been  in  trying  to  give  her  lover  money  for 
his  education ;  by  no  cunning  subterfuge  of  love 
could  she  ever  succeed  in  doing  more  than  get 
a  Wilton  on  his  bare-floored  college  room.  Rea- 
soning quick  as  lightning  from  this,  she  saw  it 
all.  She  said,  — 

"You    are   going    to    apply   again    to    the    Gov- 
ernment   engineers    for    work ;     and    will    not    go 
back   to    Amherst,    except    to   graduate  ? " 
"  Yes,    darling,    to   the   coast-survey." 
"You   are  going   to  remove   your  father  to  Bos- 
ton, and    toil  for   your  bread  at  figures,  while  you 
begin   a   sort    of   mission   work  ? " 

"  How  bright   are   we,    that  we   read   thoughts." 

"  But    for     three    long    years     you     have     been 

telling   me  all   your  thoughts."     And   she   reached 


22O  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


out  her  hand  and  took  his,  promptly  yielded, 
you  may  be  sure,  whatever  his  judgment  may 
have  dictated. 

"  And,  sir,"  now  both  hands  into  both  his, 
and  drawing  nearer  by  the  inch,  "  You  will  cast 
me  away  because  I  am  rich  ?"  And  now  she  was 
quite  in  his  arms,  with  her  head  so  up-turned 
that  the  red  lamp-light  through  the  mean  sash 
in  the  door  of  the  hut,  fell  on  her  beautiful 
face  with  pretty  effect. 

What  could  he  do  ?  He  shook  like  the  giant 
beech,  which  rustles  its  dead  leaves  over  the 
porch  in  the  wind  and  snow.  "Ah,  duty.  Thy 
name  for  an  instant  is  tyranny."  He  thought 
out  loud,  though  his  arms  encircled  her  tighter 
at  every  word.  And  think  you  a  woman  did 
not  read  what  that  meant  ? 

"  Think  of  a  young  minister  with  the  scandal 
of  elopement ! 

"Paul,  I  am  publicly  engaged  to  you.  Oh,  I 
know  that  this  is  unwomanly,  to  be  pleading 
with  you  to  take  me.  I  ought  to  become  angry, 
and  proud,  and  piqued.  But  I  can  not  be. 
For  it  is  not  Paul  Havens  the  man,  with  whom 
I  plead.  He  has  wooed  me  humbly  enough.  It 
is  Paul  Havens  the  clergyman,  bound  by  chains 
of  custom.  I  must  go  with  you,  Paul.  I  can 


ON  THE  ICE.  221 


not  live,  else !  I  forget  every  thing,  fighting  a 
little  girl's  fight  for  life!" 

Pity  his  distress.  On  one  side,  his  love  of 
this  innocent  girl ;  on  the  other  side,  the 
memory  of  that  cardinal  doctrine  of  the  parson- 
age and  his  lather,  that  a  minister's  good  name 
is  in  these  days  more  vulnerable  than  a  woman's. 
"  My  son,  of  all  things,  nothing  kills  a  minister 
like  a  woman  scrape,'"  was  the  homely  phrase. 
An  elopement  or  an  abduction,  — an  angry  man 
like  Lemuel  Norcross,  would  surely  force  it  to 
be ;  at  least,  an  unsavory  escapade  with  a  diso- 
bedient daughter,  who  was  heir  to  millions. 
Where  was  the  spot  on  earth  that  he  would 
flee  to  that  would  not  blast  him  in  the  minds  of 
the  unfriendly  world?  Every  other  man  can  fly 
from  scandal,  or  live  it  down.  Nowhere  and  never 
the  clergyman.  He  could  say  but  one  thing, 
and  that  he  said,  every  syllable  weighty  with 
emotion. 

"My  darling  —  darling!  I  am  not  worthy  ot 
your  devotion ;  but,  God  witness,  I  love  none 
but  you.  I  shall  think  of  you,  side  by  side  with 
my  thoughts  of  the  cause  which  I  am  serving. 
I  should  have  followed  you  out  into  the  ice- 
fields of  the  lake,  if  heaven  had  so  willed,  to 
die  for  or  with  you !  I  shall  never  change. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 

Think  of  me,  every  day,  as  waiting.  Who  can 
tell  in  what  ways  the  great  God  may  lead  your 
father?  I  will  try  to  live  an  honorable  life,  and 
win  the  esteem  of  honorable  men.  Go  home ; 
wait  there,  if  it  seems  good  to  you.  Serve  your 
father's  happiness,  for  I  tell  you  he  needs  it. 
He  is  very  far  from  the  right  frame  of  mind 
for  the  honest  living  of  ten  years  to  come." 

"Who's  thar  ?  "  exclaimed  a  voice,  and  a  little, 
old  woman  stood,  candle  in  one  hand  and  an 
ear  in  her  other,  after  the  manner  of  deaf  per- 
sons, at  the  opening  cottage  door.  Paul's  last 
words  had  risen  to  so  loud  a  pleading  pitch 
that  they  had  availed  where  his  knock  had 
not. 

"This  is  Lemuel  Norcross'  daughter,"  said 
Paul.  "We  want  to  wait  in  your  shelter  for 
the  Brookland  stage." 

"  A  Norcross  ? "  growled  a  man's  voice  from 
within.  "But  then,  a  'ooman 's  a  'ooman,  cf  she 
be  a  Norcross." 

"My  friends,"  Paul  began,  in  a  tone  by  no 
means  conciliatory,  for  he  bristled  like  an  athlete 
as  he  pushed  back  the  door  and  confronted  two 
rough  laborers,  just  emerging  from  the  small 
kitchen  dining-room  beyond,  —  "we  must  have  at 
least  the  hospitality  of  fifteen  minutes.  This 


ON  THE  ICE.  223 


very  cottage  and  the  whole  mountain  belongs  to 
this  young  lady's  father." 

"Yes,  it  do!"  and  a  coat  began  to  peel  off, 
for  free  use  of  arms  and  fists.  "  But  yew  bet 
that  old  hog  couldn't  come  in  here  without " 

"Hold,  Sim!"  shouted  the  other  man.  "That's 
marm's  minister's  boy.  Havens,  your  dad  is  a 
brick !  Did  n't  he  come  pray  with  marm  as  ef 
she  were  some  pum'kins  ?  —  yes,  jist  like  we 's 
rich.  God  bless  his  old  white  head  !  What  a 
singer  and  a  prayer  your  dad  is !  Ye  can  set 
right  down  tew  the  fire." 

And  so  it  was  done.  Millions  could  not  open 
these  doors ;  gentle  service  could. 


224  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


XII. 

STEPHEN   CRANE. 

A  N  hour  later  Paul  Havens  assisted  Clara  Nor- 
**•  cross  out  of  the  stage  at  her  father's  door. 
Mrs.  Norcross  met  them  with  affrighted  looks 
and,  —  / 

"  My  dear  child !  You  have  given  me  such  a 
shock  !  And  papa  's  gone  to  the  city  for  a  week. 
Where  have  you " 

"Oh,  mamma!"  was  all  the  poor  child  could 
utter  as  she  threw  herself  into  the  lovely  arms 
and  pushed  her  gently  towards  the  open  door. 

Paul  turned  away  instantly  and  walked  over 
to  the  other  home.  He  found  the  little  family 
room  full  of  happy  people,  including  Andrew 
Norcross.  No  one  had  any  solicitude  over  Paul's 
absence,  till  just  that  moment,  when  the  Norcross 
coachman,  the  lazy  fellow,  had  got  over  to  bring 
his  mistress'  anxious  inquiry. 

"Was   just  going   for   a   hunt,"   said   Andrew. 

"  Instead  of  which  I  will  go  to  Boston  with 
you  on  a  hunt  to-morrow,"  replied  Paul.  Then 
he  sat  down  and,  recognizing  the  party  as  one 


STEPHEN  CRANE.  22$ 

family,  practically,  narrated  what  he  thought  was 
necessary  of  the  situation. 

Of  course  it  fell  like  a  thunderbolt !  Yes  and 
no.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  young  man  can  ever 
break  such  fateful  news  gently.  Its  abrupt  tell- 
ing gave  each  one  of  the  auditors  in  turn  a 
shock  as  each  was  affected.  For  instance,  An- 
drew Norcross  exclaimed,  — 

"Zounds,  old  fellow!  Instead  of  his  partner, 
you  '11  be  his  victim ! "  Then  he  cast  a  curious 
glance  across  to  Miss  Bella,  and  allowed  his  eyes 
to  sink  to  the  floor.  It  would  not  do,  then.  If 
his  uncle  was  turned  against  this  family,  the 
young  courtiers  must  make  different  plans;  it 
was  a  fool's  errand  to  stop  here  on  his  way 
from  Montreal.  Oppose  his  uncle?  No  man  had 
ever  done  that  and  prospered.  No  soul  had  ever 
dared  attempt  it,  that  he  knew,  except  his  sister 
Puss. 

"  Oh,  Paul,  Paul  ! "  cried  Bella,  bursting  into  a 
paroxism  of  nervous  weeping.  "You  fail  in  every 
thing !  Is  it  fated  that  we  shall  never  get  on 

in  the  world.  That  school "  after  which  sobs 

choked  her  utterance.  She  was  an  industrious 
and  unhappy  teacher  in  the  village  school.  It 
was  not  that  Mr.  Norcross'  head  book-keeper 
was  the  committee-man.  It  was,  rather,  all  life 


226  DOLLARS  AND  DU7Y. 


before  her,  twined  in  a  school-house,  somewhere 
else  if  not  here.  She  caught  Andrew  Nor- 
cross'  dubious  glance  before  she  spoke,  and  gave 
his  downcast  face  another  penetrating  look  before 
she  put  up  her  handkerchief.  Not  but  that  her 
grief  was  real  enough.  Too  vividly  real.  The 
air-castles  were  dissolving. 

Pretty,  gentle  Nora  was  by  this  time  on  her 
brother's  knee,  with  arms  clasped  about  so 
much  of  his  shoulder  as  she  could  compass,  and 
her  sweetly  smiling  face  in  his  sturdy  neck.  She 
could  feel  his  pulse,  amid  the  swelling  cords,  beat 
across  her  white  temple.  Paul  could  fairly  feel, 
without  looking  down,  the  glow  of  her  peaceful 
smile.  She  only  whispered,  — 

"  Precious  brother.  We  were  born  to  serve, 
thank  the  adorable  Jesus  !  " 

Straight  across  the  room,  in  the  path  of  Paul's 
fixed  gaze,  came  the  pale,  pure  student,  Stephen 
Crane.  His  eyes  were  radiant.  Such  an  efful- 
gence was  in  his  face,  as  made  one  think  of 
the  martyr  Stephen's,  when  he  saw  the  heavens 
opened.  Penniless,  charity-student,  how  different 
from  "  Brother "  William  Norcross,  that  "  power 
in  the  denomination";  member  of  the  missionary 
board,  who  should  send  this  very  Stephen,  with 
this  clinging  girl,  across  the  seas  on  the  cru- 


STEPHEN  CRANE. 


sade  of  the  Nineteenth  century.  Paul  thought  of 
it,  and  then  instantly  flung  the  contrast  a  thou- 
sand miles  out  of  this  beatific  hour,  as  Crane 
grasped  his  hand. 

"Brother  Paul  —  hm  —  thou  art  a  chosen  vassal 
—  hm."  And  the  swelling  heart  so  surged  to  the 
gates  of  utterance,  that  they  closed  with  the  tide, 
and  the  heart  was  forced  into  the  hand  that 
wrung  and  wrung  Paul's,  and  clung  and  clung  ! 
Doubtless  the  charity-student,  destined  to  Africa, 
was  tasting  angel's  food,  was  beatific,  was  in  that 
high  realm  of  felicity  before  mentioned  in  these 
pages,  but  never  described  on  any  pages. 

Sylvester  Havens  was  the  only  calm  one  in  the 
little  room.  He  sat  beaming  from  his  easy  chair 
benignantly,  mingled  with  a  strange  aspect  of 
manly  triumph.  He  stroked  the  blue-veined  hand 
of  his  wife,  that  lay  quivering  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair,  whither  it  had  fluttered  out  for  help 
and  strength  ;  her  only  sign  or  motion.  He  only 
said,  and  waited  for  his  time  to  say  that,  — 

"  There  is  no  man  that  hath  left  father  or 
mother,  or  houses  or  lands,  or  wife,  for  my  sake 
and  the  Gospel's,  but  shall  receive  a  hundred- 
fold and  everlasting  life  !  Be  of  good  cheer,  my 
soldier  !  All  in  good  time  the  good  God  will 
give  my  son  as  good  a  wife  as  I  have  had!" 


228  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

He  caressed  the  hand.  "  And  I  have  little  doubt 
it  will  be  my  sweet  Clara,  after  all.  She  will  ever 
be  very  dear  to  me.  Heaven  guard  her ! " 

"  Thank  you  for  that,  father ! "  exclaimed 
Paul. 

All  this  time,  the  disappointed,  yet  not  disap- 
pointed mother,  had  not  spoken.  She  now  si- 
lently crossed  the  room,  and  threw  herself  down 
upon  the  sofa. 

"  Let  us  sing  the  evening  hymn,"  said  Pastor 
Havens.  "  How  many  times  we  have  sung  it  in 
this  dear  room."  He  did  not  say,  "this  is  among 
the  last  times." 

Nora  was  at  the  piano.  The  lady  on  the  sofa 
closed  her  eyes,  and  clasped  her  long,  beautiful 
hands  over  her  breast.  The  hymn  halted  and 
stumbled  a  little,  at  first.  Some  clergymen's  fam- 
ilies are  quite  human ;  they  become  foolishly  at- 
tached to  a  house,  a  room,  their  friends  and 
neighbors.  To  be  sure,  some  clergymen's  fami- 
lies get  hardened  to  these  changes ;  it  is  the 
best  way ;  it  is  sometimes  a  laborious  process  to 
root  out  every  little,  clinging  fiber  of  home-love, 
neighbor-love,  and  playmate-love  from  the  hearts 
of  the  clergymen's  children.  It  has  been  known 
to  take  the  heart-strings  with  it,  this  extirpation  ; 
but  time  cures  all  things,  —  modern  church  times. 


STEPHEN  CRANE.  2  29 

The  hymn  is  doing  better  now.  Father  is 
leading  it  well.  The  lady  on  the  sofa  does  not 
sing,  that  is,  so  that  we  mortals  can  hear  her. 
The  last  verse  is  somewhat  triumphant,  espe- 
cially in  the  pastor's  strong,  unartistic,  exaltant 
tones. 

"  Oh  that  home   of  the   soul,   in  my  visions  and  dreams, 

Its   bright  jasper  walls    I    can   see, 
Till   I   fancy,  but  thinly,  a  veil    intervenes 

Between   the  fair  city  and   me ! " 

Stephen    Crane   leads   in   prayer. 

When  he  is  done  the  room  is  holy.  A 
lambent  light  as  from  heaven  is  in  the  room.  You 
might  feel  like  taking  off  your  shoes  to  enter 
here.  The  rag-woven  carpet  has  the  look  of  a 
pavement  of  which  we  read  in  a  book  that  un- 
covers mysteries.  No  wonder  such  a  home  as 
this  is  dear ;  for  these  are  the  common  and 
accustomed  scenes,  save  the  element  of  the 
heroic  which  Paul's  sorrow  and  joy  have  added 
to-day. 

They  left  the  lady  on  the  sofa,  hands  clasped, 
eyes  closed.  But  an  hour  later,  when  all  the 
house  was  still,  when  Paul  was  in  bed,  the  lady 
came  in  and  sat  down  on  the  side  of  his  bed 
in  the  old  way. 

Paul    rose   half   up   and    said, — 


23O  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  Mother,    I    knew   you    would   come." 

She  drew  his  head  over  till  it  rested  on  her 
bosom  like  a  little  child.  Oh,  how  she  pressed 
him !  She  stroked  his  abundant  locks  back  from 
his  brow.  She  fondled  his  cheeks  with  her 
fingers,  which  alone  were  free.  She  kissed  him 
over  and  over  again,  between  the  fingers  that 
mitered  his  forehead. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  she  said  any  thing ; 
but  at  last,  — "  My  beautiful  boy !  my  precious, 
my  honored,  my  heroic  son!  Mother's  blessing!" 

But  this  description  is  sacrilege.  What  else 
was  said  in  that  room,  who  knows  ? 

The  next  morning  Paul  and  Andrew  took  the 
early  train  for  Boston.  Andrew  had  sent  his 
excuses  over  to  his  aunt  and  cousin  by  Bella, 
who  had  promised  to  go  to  the  Norcross  mansion 
with  them.  Paul  had  said  his  goodby.  He 
must  make  haste,  if  it  were  possible  to  get  a 
place  on  the  coast  survey,  for  the  spring  tide 
sounding,  on  the  Florida  coast.  The  everglades 
were  perilous.  Therefore  the  work  paid  large 
wages.  This  stalwart  was  not  afraid.  He  could 
earn  money  enough  to  meet  the  expenses  of  his 
graduation  and  the  removal  of  his  father's  family 
to  the  city, — if  he  could  but  secure  the  situation 
at  once,  April,  May,  June. 


STEPHEN  CRANE.  23  I 

"  I  would  offer  my  resignation  at  once,  father," 
was  his  parting  advise.  "  Present  it  at  this 
month's  church  meeting.  Do  n't  so  much  as 
think  of  resisting  him.  I  can  then  be  at 
the  church  meeting,  as  I  want  to  be,  before 
I  go  South."  He  was  full  of  the  peculiar  good 
cheer  that  a  bread-winner  always  enjoys,  a 
recourse  in  sorrow,  when  once  he  is  hand  to 
hand  with  his  tasks. 

The  one  sore  spot  in  Paul's  heart  was  very 
sensitive  to  the  early  gas-light  that  gleamed  on 
him  from  Clara's  chamber  window  as  he  walked 
through  the  gray  morning  towards  the  depot. 
Was  she  ill  ? 

That  was  a  noble  apartment ;  Paul  had  once 
been  in  it.  He  remembered  how  profane  he 
seemed  to  himself  when  following  Clara  up  there, 
to  see  —  what  think  you?  Why,  the  wedding 
dress,  which  the  servile  French  correspondents 
had  too  early  sent  over.  He  remembered  that 
Mrs.  Norcross  was  at  their  heels,  "to  help  hold 
out  the  skirts,"  you  know,  and  display  the  costly 
thing. 

"  Paul  entered  that  chamber  now,  in  imagination, 
and  almost  blushed  to  do  it.  Its  windows  looked 
out  on  acres  of  snowy  lawns.  Its  walls  were 
hung  with  paintings  that  the  father  renewed  and 


232  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


exchanged  in  prodigal  variety,  from  his  visits  to 
the  art  sales  in  New  York  every  winter.  The 
countless  little  fixings,  that  make  a  girl's  room 
so  different  from  a  boy's  room,  his  quick  eye 
had  caught  without  intention,  and  he  saw  that 
every  trifle  was  an  expensive  treasure.  Silk  and 
lace,  damask  and  carved  wood,  perfume  and 
prettiness, — it  all  passed  in  confused  vision  before 
him  then,  as  it  returned  distinctly  now.  He 
remembered  how  he  almost  stepped  upon  a  pair 
of  tiny  slippers  that  monopolized  a  rug  before 
the  grate  ;  and  how,  after  noticing  what  a  fearful 
thing  he  had  nearly  been  guilty  of,  he  gave  those 
two  little  things  half  the  room,  carefully  avoiding 
them. 

By  the  way,  the  slippers  were  now  on  their 
owner's  feet,  peeping  from  the  frill  of  her  dress- 
ing gown,  and  thrust  up,  beside  her  mother's, 
on  the  low,  glittering  fender,  in  the  fitful  dance 
of  the  English  coal-fire.  The  two  ladies  had 
shared  the  same  bed,  the  same  restlessness,  and 
each  other's  thoughts.  They  have  risen  because 
they  can  not  sleep  more,  if  they  try.  They 
have  come  to  no  conclusion  as  to  what  course 
to  pursue ;  women  can  not,  when  the  men  they 
love  are  drawing  swords  on  each  other.  Women 
can  only  wait  till  the  battle  is  done;  —  high-bred 


STEPHEN  CRANE.  233 

women,  we  mean,  who  can  not  take  a  hand  in 
it,  to  throw  a  plate,  swing  a  fire-shovel,  or  wag  a 
scolding  tongue. 

"I   shall    never  marry,    mamma." 

"Except    Paul,    my   child." 

"We  have  certainly  concluded  that,  have  we 
not?  And  papa " 

"Will  not  so  much  as  think  of  asking  any 
thing  else." 

Then,    after   a   long   silence,  — 

"  Paul  will  go  to  Boston  to-day ;  but  I  do  not 
fear  Cousin  Puss.  I  only  hope  we  can  keep 
the  good-will  of  the  Havens  family.  Do  you 
think  we  should  go  in  there  to-day,  or  wait  and 
expect  them  to  come  over  here  ? "  The  brown 
cheeks  were  shaded  with  a  brunette's  only  pos- 
sible pallor,  —  just  enough  to  relieve  the  red  glow 
of  health.  She  turned  her  face,  anxiously,  for 
the  answer.  It  was  her  only  remaining  channel 
of  communication,  this  old  Havens  intimacy,  it 
Paul  failecl  to  initiate  a  correspondence. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  responded  Mrs.  Nor- 
cross,  in  real  perplexity.  "What  everlasting  trouble 
we  —  that  is,  papa  at  least  —  have  with  the  min- 
isters! I  s'pose  intimacy  will  be  broke."  As 
with  her  husband,  excitement  told  on  her 
syntax. 


234  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"Mamma!"  the  slippers  patting  the  floor  re- 
provingly, the  brown  eyes  showing  alarm. 

"Oh,  I  am  not  about  to  desert  your  cause," 
the  elder  lady  replied,  folding  her  arms  across  her 
ample  figure  and  rocking  vigorously.  "  I  always 
make  an  exception  of  Paul  Havens.  He 's  very 
nice.  The  others  are  all  superior  people,  no 
doubt.  I  love  the  pastor ;  but  you  know,  dear 
child,  that  we  have  never — now,  really,  never," 
and  she  stopped  rocking  to  speak  the  serious 
truth  —  "found  a  pastor's  family  —  that  is,  you 
can't  expect  the  same  social  station  in  people 
who  have  such  small  incomes ! " 

"  Mamma,  dear ! "  Slippers  in  use  of  two 
standing  feet,  flash-like.  Pretty  hand  catching  at 
the  bewitching  brown  lock  of  wavy  hair  that 
fell  over  one  of  the  flashing  eyes.  "Why,  both 
those  girls  had  a  better  education  —  graduates  of 
college  —  than  1,  with  my  two  years,  at  that  fussy 
school  in  Europe !  Bella  speaks  a  purer  French 
and  as  pure  a  German ;  Nora  is  full  a's  good  a 
musician.  It  is  only  by  the  most  assiduous  read- 
ing that  I  save  myself  from  blushing  for  my 
ignorance,  before  those  two  bright  girls.  The 
first  law  of  that  home  is,  '  Be  good ' ;  the  second 
law  is,  'Education  and  refinement.'' 

"Isn't    there   a   third    law,    my   dear?"    laughed 


STEPHEN  CRANE.  235 


Mrs.  Norcross,  indulgently,  in  hopes  of  retrieving 
her  blunder. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  mamma ;  it 's  a  short  one.  It 
is,  'Do  all  the  good  you  can.'  Why,  it  was  in 
last  Sunday  morning's  sermon!  Let  me  see," 
and  she  swept  across  the  room  to  take  up  a 
morocco  note- book  that  lay  atop  her  Bible. 
Hastily  turning  its  leaves,  she  at  length  read : 
'/  ivill  do  good  unto  many.  I  will  wish  to  do 
good  unto  all.  I  will  do  wilful  Jiurt  to  none!1 
He  said  it  was  no  original  rule.  I  am  sure, 
however,  that  none  ever  kept  it  better  than 
dear  Mr.  Havens.  Oh,  I  mean  to  make  it  my 
rule!" 

A  rap  at  the  door  announced  the  plain,  whole- 
some face  of  the  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Needham, 
who  was  mistress  of  servants  and  general  care- 
taker in  this  great  palace.  She  followed  her  rap 
with  her  bowing  presence,  and  said,  — 

"With  your  permission,  ladies  :  A  man  from 
the  factory,  —  that  little  Frenchman,  Bloc, —  to 
inquire  for  Mr.  Norcross." 

"Why,  at  this  early  hour?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Norcross,  turning,  arms  akimbo,  and  hands 
pressed  on  the  chair-arms.  "  Papa  has,  moreover, 
printed  notices,  that  the  men  are  not  to  come 
to  the  house." 


236  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Certainly,  ma  am.  I  reminded  him  of  that ;  but 
he  seemed  very  pressing  and  —  and  acted  troubled. 
Shall  I  rap  at  your  husband's  door,  ma'am?" 

"  He  's  not  at  home,  Needham.  He 's  gone  to 
Boston.  Left  yesterday  afternoon." 

The  woman  took  down  the  message,  but  shortly 
returned,  reporting  "the  man  all  cut  up  by  the 
news,  and  asking  where  he  could  telegraph  the 
master ;  or,  better  still,  if  Miss  Clara  would  do 
so,  if  he,  Bloc,  told  her  what  to  say." 

"  I  '11  go  down,  mamma,  and  see  the  good 
old  man,"  said  Clara,  gathering  a  feathery  shawl 
about  her  shoulders.  "  It  is  broad  daylight. 
Then  we  will  dress  for  breakfast,  and  ask  the 
Havens  girls  to  drive.  That  's  a  happy  solution 
of  that  problem." 

She  met  Bloc  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  stand- 
ing, cap  in  hand,  for  he  "was  not  dressed  for 
them  chairs,"  nervously  supporting  himself  on  one 
foot,  with  thumb  braced  on  one  hip,  and  then 
changing  to  the  corresponding  use  of  the  other 
side  of  his  little  person. 

He  waited  for  scarce  a  good  morning  before 
whispering,  in  a  hoarse  voice, — for  workers  amid 
machinery  lose  the  art  of  the  normal  whisper,  — • 
"It  is  trouble  at  the  mills,  mum.  Inform  your- 
self- by  me.  It  is  the  poverty  of  life  against 


STEPHEN  CRANE. 


237 


the  riches  of  life.  It  is  knives  and  fire,  to  even 
force  the  master  or  destroy  him.  A  strike,  miss. 
Behold  it  thus." 

His  kind  face  was  all  drawn  upward,  as  his 
thumbs  quickly  pointed  in  the  direction  his 
shoulders  had  been  shrugged. 

"  Your  father  is  stern.  Men  love  not  stern- 
ness ;  but  Yankees  are  not  cut-throats,  till  a  man 
from  the  city  comes  to  teach  them.  Behold  him 
teaching  in  our  lodge.  I  am  loyal ! "  smiting  his 
breast.  "Regard  me  saying,  'I  am  a  Christian; 
I  will  expose  you.'  Therefore  I  enter  not  here, 
m'moiselle,  as  a  traitor  to  the  lodge.  I  warned 
them.  Many  are  with  me,  the  humble  Christian. 
But  regard  it";  shoulders  now  down,  hands 
down,  thumbs  down.  "  Many  are  with  the  Bos- 
ton man.  It  will  be  terrible.  I  would  telegraph. 
Say  Bloc  warns  him  of  trouble  at  the  mills ; 
return.  I  salute  you,"  bowing  low.  "Adieu." 
And  he  was  out  of  the  door  like  Punch  in  the 
show,  stumping  off  through  the  gray  light  of 
the  morning. 

Clara  turned,  shivering,  and  flew  up  the  stair- 
way, as  cold  as  the  draught  of  March  wind  that 
had  entered  the  great,  clanging  hall  door.  But 
on  the  landing  above  she  forced  herself  to  stop, 
to  lean  against  the  bronze  Mercury  which  held 


238  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


the  gas-taper  flaring  about  that  broad  and  deserted 
upper  hall.  A  moment  sufficed  for  her  to  regain 
her  self-possession  sufficiently  to  go  on  to  her 
mother's  room.  She  found  that  lady  in  the 
hands  of  her  maid,  beginning  to  dress  for  "such 
an  early  breakfast "  as  she  had  not  taken  since 
she  was  a  poor  farmer's  daughter  on  these  hills, 
and  sharpened  her  matutinal  appetite  by  helping 
the  milkers  with  a  favorite  cow  or  two. 

"  Mamma,  be  calm  !  "  excitedly  exclaimed  Clara ; 
"  but  we  must  find  papa !  Our  people  are  being 
incited  to  one  of  those  dreadful  strikes,  of  which 
the  papers  are  now  so  full  ! " 

"  Our  people  ?  Stop  fussin'  with  my  dress, 
Kit !  Clara,  our  village  ?  Heaven  help  !  Why, 
we  have  never  had  such  troubles  here  !  Give  me 
a  chair,  Kit,"  which  the  maid,  Kit,  did,  and  also 
proffered  the  trembling  lady  the  coffee  cup  which 
stood  on  the  silver  salver. 

"Mamma,  it  is  all  against  papa;  it  is  our  own 
village  against  papa!  Where  can  we  find  him?" 

Sure  enough :  where  ?  They  telegraphed  all 
day  and  could  not  find  him.  They  got  answers 
from  Cousin  Andrew  Norcross  and  from  Uncle 
William  ;  from  business  correspondents  in  New 
York  and  Philadelphia,  yet  could  not  find  him. 


THE  STRIKE.  239 


XIII. 

THE   STRIKE. 

A  LABOR  strike  is  nothing  in  a  vast  city 
*^-  like  New  York  or  London.  The  monster 
population  has  outgrown  its  nerves ;  you  may 
burn  half  of  a  great  street,  whose  population 
from  Battery  to  Harlem  River  exceeds  the  whole 
of  Worcester,  and  the  unburnt  end  does  not 
feel  the  charred  end.  There  is  nothing  short 
of  a  national  excitement  that  can  thrill  the  whole 
city  of  New  York.  There  is  not  the  united  spirit 
and  pride  in  the  city,  nor  shame  for  its  dis- 
honors. What  would  be  a  deserted  shop  or 
two  ?  How  few  know  where  the  shops,  that  is 
the  great  coarse  brick  piles  called  manufactories 
more  frequently  of  late,  are  located  ?  Murray 
Hill  doesn't  know;  the  Dry  Goods  District 
does  n't ;  Wall  Street  does  n't.  Suppose  the 
unknown  streets  about  the  unknown  hives  of 
toil  be  choked  with  angry  working  men,  or 
Broadway  be  filled  with  a  vociferous  and  savage- 
ly bannered  procession.  The  first  is  no  more 
felt  than  an  elephant  feels  the  quarrel  of  two 


24O  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

buzzing  flies  upon  his  rump.  The  second  is 
scarce  looked  at,  save  by  the  runners  about 
town,  unless  the  procession,  at  morning  or  even- 
ing, should  block  the  stage  in  which  the  ab- 
stracted merchant  is  traveling  to  or  from  his 
home.  What  do  the  fine  ladies  and  delicate 
children,  in  the  metropolis,  know  about  a  strike 
over  on  the  east  side,  or  across  in  Williams- 
burg  ?  They  scarcely  read  of  it  in  the  morn- 
ing papers. 

Strikes  are  terrible  in  the  small  city.  Wor- 
cester has  a  carbuncle  between  the  eyes  when 
workmen  quarrel.  The  whole  little  city  is  sick, 
faint,  and  trembling.  The  object  being  to  affect 
public  opinion,  it  is  attained  when  the  whole 
community  is  convulsed.  "The  shops"  are  the 
most  familiar  institutions  in  town,  the  "Union  rail- 
way depot "  excepted,  which  by  the  way  is  the 
beating  heart  of  the  little  inland  city.  The 
strike  threatens  to  strangle  the  store-keepers  and 
beggar  every  body.  The  church  is  in  danger 
of  destruction,  and  the  pastor  of  starvation,  while 
the  strikes  continues. 

But  a  strike  in  a  factory  village  is  the  worst. 
It  is  a  horror.  It  is  rare ;  but  when  it  comes, 
it  destroys  like  fire  in  August-parched  woodlands. 
Not  a  fair  social  flower  but  is  eaten  up.  It  is 


THE  STRIKE.  24! 


a  family  quarrel.  It  is  a  civil  war  boiled  down 
to  the  bitterest  extract. 

In  an  upper  room  over  the  postoffice,  used 
variously  for  an  "  armory,"  by  the  one  militia 
company  of  Crosston,  a  lodge-room  by  the  Good 
Templars  one  evening,  the  Free  Masons  another, 
the  Knights  of  Pythias  another,  and  in  its  turn 
by  the  Brotherly  Amalgamated  American  Working- 
men,  the  members  of  this  last-named  association 
were  assembled.  There  were  perhaps  two  hun- 
dred men  of  all  ages  crowded  into  space  too 
strait  for  half  the  number. 

There  was  this  peculiarity  about  the  audience : 
every  man  was  American-born.  Not  an  English 
importation  here,  not  a  Canadian,  not  a  French 
save  one.  That  was  the  key.  All  the  "foreign 
help,"  the  "imported  fellers,"  were  by  them- 
selves, if  assembled  at  all  this  evening.  Indeed, 
it  had  been  a  continual  social  warfare,  of  a  quiet 
kind,  in  these  village  streets  for  the  last  few 
years  ;  collisions,  and  bitter  hatreds  that  only 
waited  for  an  occasion  between  the  Yankee 
youth  and  maid,  from  these  hill-farms  and 
villages  about,  and  the  "  miserable  foreigner." 
For  more  than  a  dozen  years,  from  his  first 
little  water-wheel  shed  up  to  steam-power  and 
many  an  acre  of  factory  roofs,  Lemuel  Norcross 


242  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


had  run  his  mills  with  the  industrious,  self-re- 
specting, Protestant,  money-saving,  New  Hamp- 
shire, farm-reared  men  ^and  women,  and  their 
children. 

But,  of  late  years,  this  sort  of  "help"  had 
grown  scarce.  Hence  the  execrated  "  importa- 
tions," mostly  French,  from  over  the  sea  and 
from  over  the  St.  Lawrence,  industrious  enough, 
like  slaves  indeed,  not  self-respecting  nor  money- 
saving  nor  Protestant. 

In  this  particular  meeting,  now  being  described, 
a  sample  of  many  secret  gatherings  of  the  kind 
those  evenings  of  the  winter  and  spring  of  18 — , 
the  agitator,  John  Liverpool,  an  Englishman, 
had  the  floor  and  was  saying,  — 

"  You,  American  freemen,  can  ye  not  see  that 
He,"  meaning  only  one  "He"  in  that  village  of 
course,  and  it  was  never  necessary  to  designate 
Mr.  Norcross  more  particularly,  "  owns  you,  body 
and  soul  ?  Hi  am  hinformed  that  only  three 
old  settlers,  in  all  this  river  vale  for  twenty 
miles  each  side  of  the  dam,  owns  'is  own 
'ouse  or  the  soil  on  which  it  is  built !  Hall 
these  stores,  the  postoffice,  the  cottages  of  the 
merchants,  the  'omes  of  the  royal  poor  working- 
men,  the  public  hall,  the  Hopera  'ouse,  the  church, 
'cept  the  old  Catholic,  who  always  own  their 


THE  STRIKE.  243 


'oly  ground,  the  very  cemetery,  all  belongs  to 
Him  !  Why,  that 's  just  how  it  is  in  my  coun- 
try. We  all  belong  to  the  Lord  of  Chester!" 

"  Say,  stranger,  hold  up ! "  shouted  Bill  Luce, 
one  of  the  deacon's  boys,  who  was  boss  in  a 
spinning-room,  at  three  dollars  a  day,  and  had 
been  for  ten  years.  The  raw-boned  Yankee 
looked  savage.  His  factory-whitened  face  was 
for  the  moment  red  as  his  younger  brothers',  who 
yet  lingered  impatiently  on  the  old  hillsides. 
"  Yew  talk  like  a  miserable  fewl !  He  bought 
and  paid  for  this  yere  river  bottom.  This  yere 
industry  is  all  his  'n.  And  I  tell  ye  he  can 
clean  us  all  out  'er  here  afore  yew  can  say  Jack 
Robinson !  So  what 's  the  yewse  in  tryin'  tew 
fight  ? " 

"Fight  to  be  free!"  exclaimed  Liverpool,  slap- 
ping his  chest  like  an  actor. 

"  Free  tew  starve  ?  I  say,  can't  you  fellers 
see  heow  this  yere  village  '11  be  ?  The  store- 
keepers '11  be  agin  ye,  and  they  have  yer  wages 
trusteed  a  month  afore  ye  get  'em.  Neighbors 
a-cuttin'  the  throats  of  neighbors  in  these  narrer 
streets  ;  the  pesky  cannucks  and  polly  vous "  — 
his  for  foreign  French  —  "will  be  a-roarin'  reound 
here  and  burnin'  up  property.  Hain't  ye  had 
fights  'nuff  with  them  ?  I  tell  yew  "  —  pointing 


244  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

his  arm,  fist  and  all,  at  the  agitator, —  "we 
fellers  are  Ne-ew  Hampshire  Yanks  !  We 
abide  law.  Confound  ye,  we  keep  Sunday,  and 
go  tew  meetin' !  The  best  thing  yew  can  dew, 
is  to  yoke  upland  gee  off!" 

A  storm  of  mingled  applause  and  derision 
greeted  the  speech. 

"  For  three  dollars  a  day ! "  calmly  remarked 
Liverpool,  sneering  at  the  boss,  and  folding  his 
arms  with  two  ostentatious  sweeps  across  his 
chest. 

"That's    so!     He's   well   paid!" 

"  Let 's   bust    things  !  " 

"We're  jest   his    cattle  !  " 

"  Who   ever   saw  him   smile  ?  " 

"  Three  thousand  agin  one.  Make  him  divide ! 
We  kin  dew  it ! " 

The  chorus  of  anger  gained  upon  the  calm  of 
good  reason.  The  grudges,  the  envies,  the  jeal- 
ousies of  years  came  to  the  surface.  Many  of  the 
older  workingmen  remembered  now  how  they 
were  school-fellows,  in  the  old  "  deestrick  "  school, 
with  the  now  wealthy  and  hard  master,  who 
lived  in  his  "palace,"  while  they  lived  in  his 
cottages.  The  grudges  of  their  wives,  school- 
mates of  Mrs.  Norcross,  the  fireside  piques  of 
the  incompetent  and  unsuccessful  against  the 


THE  STRIKE.  24$ 


fortunate  and  "lucky,"  all  came  to  add  fuel  to 
this  fire.  Men  lost  their  good  sense ;  every  kind 
deed  of  Norcross'  —  and,  of  course,  there  were 
such  ;  the  public  library,  for  instance,  and  good 
schools  —  was  forgotten  in  a  moment.  The  vil- 
lage peace  of  years  was  never  so  imperiled  be- 
fore. 

There  was  but  one  apparent  deterrence.  The 
foreigner  ! 

Cries  of  "  Bloc !  Go,  ask  Bloc.  What  says 
Bloc  ? "  "  He  is  a  white  man."  "  The  good 
Frenchman  !  "  brought  the  little,  gesticulating  or- 
ator to  his  feet,  skull-cap  in  hand.  He  said, — 

"  One  says  !  Apprehend,  the  entire  one  assem- 
blee  !  Light  not  the  mine  of  the  powder !  Re- 
gard the  two  churches,  already  menacing  each 
other,  angry.  Regard  the  two  arrondissements 
of  the  petit  village,  Catholique,  Protestant,  Amer- 
can,  foreign.  The  arrondissements  already  are 
like  two  villages  ;  they  hate  each  others'  children, 
even.  The  industry  is  peace  ;  the  employed  fight 
not.  The  idleness  is  one  horror !  " 

"  Tell  'em,  Pierre,"  shouted  Boss  Luce,  "  about 
that  loafer  who  is  par  le  vouin'  to  'em,  jest  the 
same  as  this  English  feller  to  us  ! " 

"  It  is  legitimate  that  one  say  it.  It  is  veri- 
table truth  ! "  was  Bloc's  reply. 


246  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 

"  Labor,"  roared  Liverpool,  mounting  his  gigan- 
tic frame  on  the  low  desk  of  the  platform,  and 
swinging  his  arms  like  pine  branches  in  a  gale, 
"labor  makes  universal  brotherhood  !  I  know 
Leclerc,  the  messenger  sent  from  the  city  to  in- 
struct the  French.  He  is  a  foe  of  tyrants,  as 
I  am.  Be  brothers  in " 

"  Shovel  out  the  foreigners  ! "  yelled  some  one  ; 
"it's  our  chance  to  git  rid  on  'em.  Let's  strike 
for  that!" 

Instantly,  the  spark  set  fire.  The  agitation, 
which  at  first  had  no  definite  meaning  nor  rea- 
son in  the  minds  of  these  thrifty  wage-earners, 
and  which  would  doubtless  have  failed  to  enkin- 
dle the  native  workingmen  to  the  passion  fit  for 
bad  deeds,  suddenly  flamed  up  into  an  ever-in- 
creasing conflagration.  This  one  appeal  to  race- 
prejudice  did  it. 

It  began  so  casually,  at  the  meeting  here  par- 
tially described.  The  room  soon  emptied,  to  be 
sure,  on  this  particular  night  ;  the  habit  of  early 
to  bed  and  early  to  rise  to  meet  the  six  o'clock 
bell,  was  yet  powerful.  But  knots  of  vociferating 
madmen  went  wandering  cottage-ward,  and  for  the 
succeeding  days,  men  bent  over  bench  and  loom 
to  consult  and  to  fire  each  others'  hearts.  Even- 
ing after  evening  for  the  next  week,  the  kitchen 


THE  STRIKE.  247 


and  the  "stove-corner"  of  the  village-store  where 
the  loungers  sat  —  there  was  not  a  bar-room  in 
Lemuel  Norcross'  village — kindled  and  smouldered 
with  race-hatred. 

Lemuel  Norcross  should  have  been  "  on  his 
own  land."  He  could  have  enforced  peace ;  he 
had  often  been  obliged  to  do  it  since  he  first 
brought  the  new  kind  of  help  into  town.  Indeed, 
his  bold,  hard  face  could  have  frowned  these 
Americans  into  their  accustomed  respect  for  their 
own  bread  and  butter. 

But  Mr.  Norcross  was  not  to  be  found  ;  no, 
not  for  a  week  of  this  smudge-fire.  After  Bloc's 
warning  to  Clara,  which,  in  fact,  succeeded  the 
night's  meeting  referred  to,  the  wires  were  kept 
loaded  with  messages  by  the  family,  and  by  the 
city  house.  But,  beyond  the  simple  trace  of  him 
at  a  bank  in  Philadelphia,  for  seven  intermina- 
bly long  days  the  great  manufacturer  was  lost  to 
all  the  world. 

The  man  in  all  Crosston  who  alone  expressed 
no  surprise,  who  remarked  frequently  with 
calmness  that  "  there  was  nothing  to  be 
worried  about,  and  he  was  not  surprised  at 
his  absence,"  was  the  head  book-keeper.  But 
this  attracted  no  particular  attention  at  the 
time. 


248  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

This   book-keeper    was    the    first    mortal   to   get 
tidings ;    it   was   a.   telegram  ;    it    simply   read,  — 
"Fixed.    Home  to-morrow.    L.  N." 

It  was  remarked  by  several  that  the  book- 
keeper fairly  clapped  his  hands  with  delight  at 
first  ;  but  instantly,  seeming  to  resume  his  mask 
of  calmness,  he  reclaimed  and  tore  up  the  tele- 
gram in  the  presence  of  .the  cashier,  to  whom 
,he  had  inadvertently  handed  it.  He  then  quietly 
sent  word  to  all  concerned,  the  office  operator 
rattling  off  the  messages,  that  the  manufacturer 
would  be  home  in  the  morning.  It  was  not  till 
weeks  afterwards,  that  the  cashier  and  others  to 
whom  he  repeated  the  concise  dispatch,  recalled 
its  suspicious  and  significant  wording,  — 

"Fixed."  Fixed?  Not  the  peace  of  the  vil- 
lage, however.  That  very  night  the  smudge-fire 
puffed  into  a  great  blaze.  Crosston  numbered  that 
day  five  thousand  souls.  Thirty-five  years  ago,  two 
farmers  with  their  families  were  the  only  deni- 
zens of  these  meadows ;  they  yet  lived ;  their 
•households  numbered,  with  the  two  old  men,  ten 
persons.  Subtract  ten  from  five  thousand ;  you 
have  four  thousand,  nine  hundred  and  ninety 
human  beings,  all  of  whom  were  dependent,  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  on  the  mill-wheels,  which  in 
turn  were  dependent  on  the  brain-wheels  of  one. 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  249 


XIV. 
A    NIGHT    OF    TERROR. 

r\  ^HIS  night  of  March  thousands  turned  against 
-*-  the  One.  He  stood  between  two  races. 
The  French  were  massed,  like  an  army,  down 
in  Franklin  Square ;  an  open  park-like  enclosure, 
more  pretentious  than  pretty,  in  that  region  of 
mill  tenements,  which,  by  common  consent,  had 
been  abandoned  to  the  foreign  element.  On  one 
side  of  the  square  lay  the  long,  low  buildings  of 
the  silk  mills.  Leclere,  the  fire-brand,  was  in 
command  there,  like  a  general.  They  were  men, 
women,  and  children.  They  were  silent,  they  were 
armed  with  such  implements  as  their  race  has 
always  used  in  street  fights.  The  bread  knives 
in  the  hands  of  women,  the  kerosene  can  and 
unlighted  tow  torch  in  the  hands  of  young  girls, 
were  new  to  the  village  police,  of  whom,  all 
counted,  there  were  but  six,  and  two  of  that 
number  were  down  with  convenient  rheumatism. 
Franklin  Square  was  frenzied  with  fear,  with  a 
foreigner's  sense  of  being  a  stranger  in  a  hostile 


250  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


land,  with  religious  fanaticism,  and  with  despair. 
Franklin  Square  waited  for  the  armory. 

At  the  armory  was  the  muster  of  the  Brotherly 
Amalgamated  Americans,  etc.,  etc.  They  had 
been  in  session  since  three  o'clock  of  the  after- 
noon, when,  by  their  quitting  their  places,  the 
great  mills  had  been  forced  to  shut  down.  At 
that  time,  thanks  to  heaven  who  alone  knows 
why  the  mercy  happened,  the  two  factions  had 
swept,  without  collision,  through  the  mill  yards 
to  their  respective  rallying  points.  It  was  like 
the  swirl  of  dead  leaves  in  gusty  April.  There 
was  this  difference,  that  all  the  native-born  fe- 
male help  flew  home;  it  was  the  men  and  boys 
only  who  poured  along  Webster  Street  to  the 
armory. 

It  was  then  that  every  trader  shut  his  doors 
and  went  to  the  armory  to  look  on.  It  was  then 
that  the  three  smart,  high,  and  crowded  public 
schools  sent  the  children  screaming  home,  an 
hour  before  the  historic  New  England  four  o'clock 
closing  hour.  It  was  then  that  the  shopping 
farmers  whipped  up  and  left  the  streets  as  de- 
serted as  midnight, — that  is,  absolutely  deserted. 
It  was  then,  at  that  same  three  o'clock,  that  the 
head  book-keeper  in  the  mill  office  telegraphed  to 
the  governor  of  the  State  and  issued  revolvers 


A   NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  2$[ 


to  so  many  of  the  pale-faced  soldiers  of  the  pen 
as  would  take  them  and  volunteer  to  stay  with 
him.  It  was  then  that  all  the  Havens  family 
left  the  parsonage  and  went  over  to  comfort  and 
to  share  the  peril  of  Mrs.  Norcross  and  Clara. 
The  village  terror  decided  that  point  of  etiquette. 
For  a  week  they  had  not  met,  till  that  hour. 
Why  had  not  so  good  a  man  as  Pastor  Havens 
taken  the  initiative  and  made  his  pastoral  call 
alone  ?  Because  he  was  sent  back  to  an  invalid's 
bed  by  the  excitement  of  Paul's  last  night.  He 
staggered  with  a  cane  this  afternoon,  as  he  shoved 
his  numb  feet  along  the  grass  after  the  wife 
and  daughters,  all  thanking  heaven  that  the  by- 
path saved  them  from  showing  their  faces  in  the 
empty  street.  The  parsonage  and  the  Norcross 
mansion  overlooked,  from  high  ground,  the  dread- 
ful Franklin  Square  ;  by  the  winding  road  they 
were  a  mile  apart ;  by  gunshot  track,  not  five 
hundred  yards. 

"But  you,  girls,  and  you,  Paul's  mamma,  might 
have  come  before."  Clara's  brown  eyes  said  it, 
not  her  lips,  which  kissed  them  all  such  a  wel- 
come, she  holding  Nora  by  the  two  hands  as 
they  stepped  into  the  library. 

"  But  we  dare  not  come.  We  are  dependents, 
and  sensitive,  foolishly  proud,  no  doubt.  We 


252  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


knew  not  our  welcome."  The  three  women's 
faces  said  this,  both  to  Clara  and  her  mother ; 
but  not  their  lips. 

None  of  the  women  spoke  at  any  length. 
They  sat  behind  the  curtained  windows,  holding 
each  others'  hands,  weeping  now  and  then,  pray- 
ing now  and  then,  closing  the  eyes  for  long 
intervals,  listening  to  the  good  words  of  comfort 
that  were  spoken  by  the  man  of  God,  and  wait- 
ing. These  gentle  village  ladies  had  read  of  such 
a  terror's  reign.  Yet  here  ir  was  a  canopy  of 
gloom,  settling  down  with  the  night-fall  over 
pretty  Crosston. 

As  the  darkness  increased  a  heavy  valley  fog, 
from  the  melting  mood  of  the  spring  day,  rolled 
down  from  the  snow  fields  on  the  hills  and  sprung 
up  from  the  icy  river.  The  gas  was  hardly  able 
to  overcome  it  in  the  gorgeous  passage-ways  and 
apartments  of  the  mansion.  The  ranks  on  ranks 
of  lights  in  the  mills  were  wanting ;  in  their 
places  flared  the  prismatic  spots  of  torches, 
down  in  the  square,  which  seemed  to  be  burn- 
ing coals  in  the  fabric  of  the  gray  pall. 

"  It  is  time  for  the  train,"  said  Clara,  who 
had  held  the  book-keeper's  telegram  crumpled 
nervously  ever  since  she  received  it.  In  the 
same  hand  she  now  held  her  watch,  and  her  eyes 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR  253 


consulted  also  the  tall,  old-fashioned  grandfather's 
clock  which  "  never  was  wrong." 

"  Your  father  will  soon  be  here,"  said  the 
pastor.  "  I  have  n't  shown  you  my  telegram. 
Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  it."  And  he 
handed  a  dispatch  to  the  young  lady. 

As  if  instinctively  she  knew  what  it  contained, 
her  face  flushed,  and  her  pretty  fingers  trembled 
so  that  she  took  both  hands  to  hold  the  paper 
steady.  But  she  suppressed  her  joy  enough  to 
calmly  remark  to  the  company,  — 

"Paul    Havens   is   coming   on   the   same   train!" 

"And "suggested  the  pastor,  "for  you  did 

not  read  it  all." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  did  not,  did  I  ? "  And  her  face  sud- 
denly lost  its  glow,  as  she  turned  to  read  again. 
The  second  line  had  been  written  by  the  fright- 
ened and  oft-interrupted  operator,  in  pencil  lower 
on  the  yellow  page.  "  Miss  Fidelia  Norcross  will 
be  with  me." 

"What  is  she  coming  here  for?"  asked  Mrs. 
Norcross. 

Clara  bit  her  lip  a  moment,  and  then  responded, 
"  You  remember,  mamma,  dear,  that  we  were 
expecting  her  on  a  visit,  with  Andrew,  just  be- 
fore —  oh,  ages  ago,  so  it  seems,  in  the  old  happy 
days  of  a  little  more  than  a  week  ago ! " 


254  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 


"  Hark !  "    every   body   said  it. 

It  was  the  boom  of  the  factory  steam-gong. 
It  moaned  and  groaned  out  upon  the  thick  night 
air  with  dread  alarm.  Did  you  ever  hear  this 
substitute  for  the  whistle  and  the  bell  ?  In  times 
of  peace  it  makes  children  shudder.  It  is  the 
most  execrable  of  sounds.  It  runs  the  scale  of 
groans.  It  is  hideous  always.  But  to-night,  it 
was  an  awful  note  of  terror.  To  whom  was  it 
calling  ?  For  there  was  no  one  to  help  the  vil- 
lage against  itself.  The  village  was  rending  itself. 
Therefore  it  was  the  cry  of  despair. 

"  Hark !  "    every   body   said   it. 

It  was  the  long,  low  boom  of  the  factory 
whistle.  The  monotony  of  it  !  Listen  five  min- 
utes, ten  minutes,  twenty  minutes,  to  that  change- 
less note,  and  it  seems  to  drive  you  mad.  The 
whistle  had  begun  a  long  wail,  which  the  engi- 
neer, as  was  afterwards  learned,  who  alone  stood 
faithful  in  his  room,  meant  to  continue  as  long  as 
he  could  keep  steam  to  run  it.  To  whom  was 
it  calling  ?  There  was  no  one  to  help  the  village 
arrayed  against  itself. 

"Hark!"     They   all   said   it. 

It  was  the  three  fire  bells;  bells  of  two 
churches  and  the  bell  over  the  factory  office.  In 
a  country  village  the  fire  bell  calls  to  every 


A   NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  255 

body ;  all  arc  firemen ;  every  one  takes  up  the 
cry  and  shouts  "  Fire !  fire  ! "  But  no  one  helped 
the  bells  now.  The  same  waiting  stillness, 
before  the  tempest,  was  in  the  gray-robed  streets. 
For  a  few  moments,  every  one  in  the  Norcross 
mansion  sat  still,  as  if  paralyzed  by  these  notes 
of  the  warning  that  the  storm  had  begun.  But 
as  the  great  silence  without  continued  one,  two, 
three,  five  minutes  —  Clara  was  holding  her 
watch  —  the  village  heiress  arose  and  went  to 
the  window.  With  a  sort  of  desperate  composure 
she  turned  and  remarked, — 

"It  is  time  for  the  train.  But  the  factories 
are  on  fire !  See ! "  And  she  lifted  the  velvet 
curtains  and  held  them  on  her  ivory  arm,  from 
whence  their  weight  drew  down  her  silken 
wrapper  to  the  elbow. 

The  blood-red  glare  which  struggled  up  through 
the  heavy  air  was  instantly  flung  like  bespatter- 
ing paint  over  the  fine  ceiling  and  walls,  and 
flushed  and  darkened,  alternately,  upon  the 
magnificent  countenance  of  the  brave  girl. 

"What  is  it,  my  good  Bloc?"  She  let  fall 
the  curtain  and  advanced  towards  the  Frenchman, 
who,  reappearing  like  a  ghost,  stood,  skull-cap 
in  hand,  gesticulating. 

"Informer!     It    is    His    arrival,    ahead   of   time 


256  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

by  engine  and  the  one  car.  And  a  mademoiselle 
and  monsieur,  your  son!"  thumbs  pointing  to  the 
pastor.  "  It  is  that  the  master  goes  straight  to 
the  office,  —  of  the  others  I  know  not.  You  are 
restez  avec  the  mansion,  here,  till  He  come ! " 

•'Stay  here,  and  leave  papa  to  those  wolves?" 
exclaimed  Clara.  "  Never !  He  should  have  come 
here  and  let  the  miserable  business  go.  It  is 
beyond  rescue.  But  as  he  did  not,  I  shall  go 
to  him!" 

"  Impossible,  my  child  !  "  It  would  be  difficult 
to  determine  who  said  it  first,  or  who  was  say- 
ing it  now.  It  was  a  chorus;  and  all  hands 
had  hold  of  the  daring  girl. 

"  Paul ! "  she  cried,  out  of  the  wilderness  of 
restraining  arms,  "go  with  me  to  save  papa!" 

"  Paul  Havens  indeed  stood  there,  breathless 
from  his  running,  towering  high  above  Bloc's 
shoulders.  The  glad  surprise  released  every  one's 
hold,  and  amid  their  joyful  cries  of  welcome, 
Clara  escaped  past  them  all  and  was  locked  in 
Paul's  arms  once  more. 

"  Say  yes,  Paul.  Take  me ;  take  me ! "  she 
was  pleading. 

Take  her  ?  Obey  that  plea  ?  Ah,  the  rapture 
of  that  unexpected  moment,  after  a  week  of 
desolation !  He  had  had  another  plan  half 


A   NIGHT  OF  TERROR. 


formed,  —  to  stand  here  on  the  defensive  for  the 
right,  one  against  thousands.  But  he  remembered 
another  woman,  and  her  noble  errand,  that  very 
moment  in  process  of  execution.  And  why  should 
not  the  woman  whom  he  loved  show  herself  as 
noble  as  the  woman  who  loved  him  ?  He  re- 
placed his  hat  upon  his  head.  At  that  sign, 
the  mother  of  the  young  girl  flew  at  him  with 
a  shriek. 

"You  are  not  so  insane  as  "to  comply,  sir?" 
"  My  dear  lady,"  said  Paul,  gently  restraining 
her  with  one  hand,  "  I  have  left  Puss  Norcross 
going  on  foot  and  alone  to  the  black  Franklin 
Square.  If  this  dear  girl  will  accompany  my 
revered  father  and  me,  I  will  take  them  to  the 
armory  -  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  shot  in  Clara.  "  Papa's  office  !  " 
"  Hush,  child,"  cried  Pastor  Havens,  instantly 
taking  in  his  son's  idea,  and  shuffling  across 
the  floor  towards  them.  "  I  should  have  gone 
before,  to  plead  with  our  people,  but  that  I 
could  not  walk.  Sister  Norcross,  be  at  peace 
here.  Suffer  these  two  young  people  to  support 
me.  These  Americans  are  my  flock.  They  fill 
our  church.  They  will  listen  -  " 

"The  carriage,  then!"    sighed   the  lady,   sinking 
helpless   into   her   chair.     "  The   horses   have   been 


258  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

harnessed    all    the    afternoon    for   flight,    but    that 
I    dare    not    fly." 

In  a  moment  more  the  lone  vehicle,  the  only 
one  for  hours,  was  splashing  through  the  slush- 
cumbered  streets ;  with  the  call  of  the  gong, 
the  whistle  and  the  bells  everywhere  abroad 
in  this  outer  air.  Through  the  throngs  of 
troubled  citizens  of  decent  mien,  who  stood  about 
the  entrance  of  the  armory,  hands  in  pockets, 
or  hands  hammering  their  palms,  as  they  argued 
the  matter  with  each  other;  through  knots  of 
boisterous  boys  and  youth,  too  young  to  find 
admittance  up-stairs  in  the  lodge-room  of  the 
Amalgamateds  ;  through  crowds  of  idlers  of  every 
age,  who  were  not  considered  up  to  that  grade 
of  "respectable  working  men,"  which  the  Amal- 
gamateds required ;  yet  who  now  gloried  in  the 
chaos  that  promised  to  turn  up  something,  they 
knew  not  what,  to  their  advantage ;  through 
a  mob  of  people  who  were  all  agreed,  by  this  time, 
in  one  thing,  denunciation  on  the  village  auto- 
crat ;  the  tradesmen  —  "  because  he  was  not  here 
to  prevent  so  shameful  a  condition  of  things "  ; 
the  vagabond,  "because  he  was  rich  enough"; 
the  boys  and  youth,  —  why  ?  the  carriage  pressed 
slowly.  It  got  the  right  of  way  at  last  to 
the  door  of  the  armory.  The  multitude  made 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  259 


an  effort  for  silence,  as  it  gave  way  for  the  three 
occupants  who  pressed  their  persons  through  the 
wedged,  living  mass,  and,  at  last,  up  the  stairs. 
In  the  darkness  no  one  recognized  them,  but 
they  owed  the  possibility  of  making  any  progress 
at  all  to  the  whispered  rumor  that  "it  was  Nor- 
cross'  own  carriage." 

At  length,  when  they  stood  clinging  together 
upon  the  landing  above,  a  gas  jet  revealed  them. 

"It    is   the   minister!" 

This  was  roared  out  so  loudly  that  it  no 
doubt  penetrated  the  guarded  and  bolted  door, 
on  which  the  most  thundering  knocks  of  the 
crowd  for  two  hours  had  rained  in  vain.  Surely 
Paul's  knock  and  shout  had  no  effect  till  the 
roar  helped  him. 

"  Enter,  beloved  sir.  What  ?  A  lady !  And 
your  son  ? "  answered  the  mechanic,  who  showed 
his  face,  ushered  them  in,  and  quietly  closed 
and  barred  the  door  behind  them. 

It  was  a  remarkable  scene  that  they  looked 
upon.  Perhaps  two  hundred  New  England  faces, 
from  twenty-one  years  old  upward.  This  company 
has  been  sifted  since  you  saw  it  last,  reader. 
Not  a  "loafer,"  not  an  unthrifty  hanger-on  is 
here.  It  is  "only  the  members."  Every  face  is 
strong;  every  face  has  looked,  as  often  as  once 


26O  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


a  month,  through  the  wicket  window  of  the  Sav- 
ings Bank.  Faces  flushed  and  pale  with  dis- 
cussion, sad  and  troubled,  as  if  uncertain  of 
themselves,  vexed  and  ashamed  of  a  humiliating 
"  fix,"  into  which  somehow  honorable  toilers 
have  "got  themselves." 

Discarding  his  living  crutches,  like  an  appari- 
tion, so  ghastly  pale  was  the  pastor,  his  white 
hair  flung  back,  the  hovering  hands  extended, 
swift  in  motion,  resistless  as  an  angel  of  light, 
this  prophet  of  the  valley  advanced  to  the  side  of 
the  demagogue,  Liverpool.  One  of  his  long,  thin 
fingers  touched  that  bullock  of  a  man,  and : 
"  Cease  to  betray  my  people,  you  deceiver ! " 
parted  the  pastoral  lips. 

The  Englishman  folded  himself  up  like  a 
pocket  foot-rule,  and  actually  squat  against  the 
wall,  for  there  was  not  a  seat  to  be  had. 

"My  brethren  of  the  church  of  God!"  re- 
sumed the  voice  which  nearly  all  of  them  were 
accustomed  to  hear  on  the  Sabbath.  Ah,  it  was 
sweet  as  music,  by  the  contrast.  What  a  hungry 
silence  leaned  forward  to  drink  in  the  loving, 
tender  tones  !  "  For  many  of  you,  yes,  many  of 
you,  now  found  in  such  a  scene  as  this,  are  my 
brethren  in  Christ's  church  !  Oh,  the  shame  of 
it ! "  and  the  voice  choked  with  emotion.  "  Oh, 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  26 1 


ye  foolish  Galatians,  who  hath  bewitched  you  ? " 
His  very  pauses  were  mightier  than  his  speech. 
"  I  have  then  lived  among  you  in  vain.  In  vain 
I  have  instructed  your  little  ones;  in  vain,  helped 
you,  penitent  ;  in  vain  sat  by  your  sick  ;  in  vain 
folded  the  hands  of  your  dead " 

"Oh,  God!"  It  came  out  like  a  groan;  it 
shook  a  score  of  repenting  hearts ;  it  was  the 
hammer  of  sacred  memories.  No  one  asked  who 
said  it  ;  all  felt  it. 

"  No.  I  will  not  lead  you  to  God  in  prayer 
again.  What  !  Pray  here  ?  Mention  that  holy 
Name  here?  In  vain  my  years  among  you.  I 
will  go.  It  is  indeed  time  I  left  the  village." 

"  God    forbid,    pastor ! "     It   was    a   chorus. 

"  Yes.  Mr.  Norcross  is  your  brother  in  the 
church ;  that  is,  I  see  many  here  to  whom  that 
is  a  true  rebuke.  And  you  have  murder  in  your 
hearts  !  " 

"Boys,  hear  the  bells!  I  tell  you  it  is  time  that 
men  with  families,  men  born  under  the  flag  of 
liberty  to  all,  men  who  have  bowed  in  the  church, 
and  murmured  the  name  of  the  Christian's  Sav- 
iour, get  out  of  this !  The  fire-bells !  There 
shall  be  no  riot  of  races.  Remember  who  we 
are  !  " 

It   was    a    nameless    man    who    spoke ;    one    of 


262  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


hundreds  to  be  found  in  all  these  village  churches 
of  New  England.  Black  eyes,  black  hair,  black 
hands,  ashen  face,  mounted  on  a  chair. 

"That's  jist  what  I  said,  long  ago,"  answered 
another  nameless  speaker,  now,  with  new  cour- 
age remounted  on  his  chair.  "  And  you  fellers 
laughed,  an'  said  I  was  a  pious  fool,  and  how 
this  ere  wa'  n't  a  prayer-meetin'.  An'  I  was  jest 
fool  enuff  to  git  down.  Pastor,  I  did  n't  bear 
my  cross.  'T  wa'  n't  easy.  'T  ain't  like  church 
here,  by  a  long  shot  i  But  we  '11  rattle  eout 
that  ere  m'chine  an'  git  tew  that  fire,  boys  ! " 

He  had  red  hair,  blue  eyes,  a  chest  that  la- 
bored like  a  bellows,  the  fair  Saxon,  the  strong- 
est physical  type.  He  sprang  forward  like  a 
young  steer. 

"  We  only  needed  you,  Pastor  Havens  !  " 
shouted  another  voice  ;  but  to  which  of  half-a- 
dozen  men  now  leaping  to  their  feet,  the  voice 
belonged,  it  needed  the  parson's  familiarity  to 
detect. 

"  Oh,  Scth,  my  brother ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ha- 
vens, shaking  his  finger  reprovingly  at  the 
speaker. 

"  Nay,  beloved  sir,"  the  man  Seth  responded, 
now  within  embracing  distance.  "But  it's  true; 
the  pond  had  been  gittin'  en 'most  run  dry  of 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  263 


mad  fcelin's  fur  a  half  hour.  The  sinners  here," 
glancing  about,  with  a  clever  smile,  towards  the 
frowning  group  of  very  young  men  who  were 
knotting  together  with  angry  disappointment,  in 
one  corner,  "  may  be,  wanted  tew  fight  some- 
body. Yew  know  Brother  Norcross  ai  n't  very 
pop'lar  of  late.  But  all  the  b'lievers,  what 
thought  of  the  old  church,  stood  firm ! "  The 
springing  tears  were  almost  as  ready  as  the 
laugh.  He  wrung  the  preacher's  hand  as  if  it 
were  some  heavy  lever  of  a  machine. 

"I  feel  as  if  I'd  lost  all  th'  r'lig'n  I  ever 
had,  pastor,  in  these  blood-curdlin'  meetin's," 
,said  another,  out  of  the  crowd,  that  now  surged 
forward  about  the  three  visitors.  Indeed,  Paul 
had  more  than  his  match  to  protect  his  frail 
sire  and  the  beautiful,  trembling  woman  from 
these  rough  penitents, 

"Better  have  an  anxious  seat  here,"  said 
another.  "  Oh,  sir  what  shall  we  do  ? " 

"Do?"  cried  Paul,  "what  is  the  fire-bell 
saying?"  The  words  rung  clear,  prompt,  and 
cheery  above  the  confusion. 

It  was  enough.  The  victory  was  won.  With 
a  great  thunder,  the  feet  of  two  hundred  pounded 
out  into  the  hall,  down  the  stairs,  and  into  the 
street.  Perhaps  it  could  have  occurred  in  no 


264  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


other  land  than  an  Anglo-Saxon,  in  no  other 
country  but  our  country,  in  no  other  region  as 
in  New  England.  Perhaps  twenty  years  from 
now  it  will  have  become  an  improbable,  an 
impossible  occurrance  even  in  those  -Arcadian 
valleys.  For  the  blue  blood  of  New  England, 
the  prophesy  shall  be  written  by  me. 

But  it  was  a  fact,  good  sirs,  social  philoso- 
phers, and  publicists,  that  once  on  a  time  the 
strong  Puritan  conscience,  the  love  of  home  and 
the  love  of  the  church  of  Christ,  at  a  pastor's 
command,  saved  fair  Crosston  from  a  lapse  into 
barbarism.  It  was  an  Englishman  who  attempted 
to  teach  them,  "the  French  must  go."  The 
"must  go"  cry  is  not  indigenous.  It  is  not 
Christian. 

"  Fire ! "  Is  there  any  other  sound  you  ever 
heard  like  the  country  village  shout  of  fire  ?  It 
laughs,  it  exults,  it  weeps,  it  is  in  terror.  It  is 
the  excitement  of  recreation  and  of  toil  com- 
mingled. It  is  the  fool's  blat  and  the  hero's 
clarion  call.  The  deep,  prolonged  bawl  of  the 
men  is  thrilling ;  but  the  shrill  treble  of  lads 
and  children  carries  the  excitement  yet  higher. 
The  quavering  voices  of  women,  taking  up  the 
cry,  add  the  highest,  the  wildest  agitation  to 
which  your  throbbing  nerves  can  answer.  Dear, 


A   NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  1-6$ 

old,  dreadful  excitement  of  our  boyhood !  New 
York,  and  all  you,  great  cities,  you  have  lost  it, 
and  please  heaven,  forever ;  a  fire  is  as  prosy 
as  selling  cheese,  in  the  great  town.  Men, 
whose  business  it  is,  go  put  it  out  and  done 
with  it. 

When  Paul  Havens  and  Clara  Norcross  got 
the  exhausted  good  man  down  to  the  wait- 
ing carriage,  they  stood  in  a  vacant  street.  Not 
a  human  being  was  left  in  sight. 

"  Home,    Paul,"   his   father    gasped. 

"But, — but  my  father?"  said  Clara  with 
emphasis  on  my. 

The  young  man  stood  hesitating,  in  a  dilemma 
between  the  two  fathers,  when  the  coachman 
volunteered,  "  Please,  sir,  it 's  most  out.  'T  aint 
any  of  the  big  mills.  It 's  some  sheds  in  the 
yard  —  if  the  rascals  do  n't  git  afeared  of  this 
sudden  rush  of  white  folks,  and  fire  the  big 
mills." 

"  Oh !  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Clara,  clasping  her 
hands,  but  forbearing  to  add  any  exhortation, 
as  she  saw  the  pitiable  condition  of  the  fainting 
clergyman. 

"But  drive  to  brother  Norcross'  help,  Paul," 
said  Mr.  Havens. 

That   settled   it.     Clara  caught  him   in   her   own 


266  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

strong  arms  within  the  vehicle,  and  supported 
him  till,  very  shortly,  they  were  halting  over 
the  only  pavement  that  ever  echoed  in  Crosston, 
the  paved  main  road  through  the  black  dust  of 
the  mill-yards. 

The  flame  and  smoke,  a  dense  canopy, 
enveloped  the  lower  extremity  of  the  enclosure. 
But  it  was  evident,  as  rumor  had  informed  the 
old  coachman,  that  whatever  structure  was  on 
fire  had  been  nearly  consumed.  A  stream  of 
water  suddenly  blurted  over  the  heads  of  our 
party.  It  splashed  like  a  torrent  against  the 
side  of  the  office,  before  which  the  carriage  was 
halting.  It  came  bending  over  the  high  brick 
enclosure  wall  from  the  south,  the  Franklin 
Square  side,  near  which  the  office  building  was 
located.  It  deluged,  with  its  rebounding  cascade, 
both  Clara  and  Paul,  who  were  just  alighting. 
It  was  an  impatient  and  an  unskilful  stream ; 
the  rural  fireman  should  have  brought  their 
palpitating  hose  through  the  small  gate,  a  little 
further  to  the  east. 

The  spitting,  gurgling,  cracking,  fresh  stream 
was  hailed  with  a  great  shout.  It  was  defiance 
as  well  as  joy.  Franklin  Square,  massed  black 
and  terror-halted  a  little  further  east,  heard  the 
shout,  as  they  also  beheld  the  rush  of  the 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  267 


Armory,  with  the  decision  of  despair.  They 
misinterpreted  it  all ;  they  supposed  themselves 
now  doomed  to  attack.  They  were  nearer  the 
small  gate  just  referred  to.  If  they  were  packed 
together  before,  they  —  these  masses  of  Franklin 
Square  —  were  crystalized  by  pressure  into  one 
lump  now.  A  mere  girl,  armed  with  a  kerosene 
can,  unlatched  the  gate ;  she  could  hardly  reach 
up  to  the  heavy  hasp,  but  she  did  it  and  sprang 
in.  A  small,  dark  faced  man  followed  her.  It 
all  happened  in  a  trice,  Paul  and  Clara,  from 
the  shelter  of  the  office  portico  saw  it  all  as 
they  shook  the  water  from  their  faces  and  half 
turned  to  look  back  towards  the  carriage  where 
the  clergyman  yet  sat. 

As  the  small,  dark-faced  man  took  his  turn 
after  the  girl  through  the  narrow  iron  wicket,  a 
bar  of  light  from  a  dark  lantern  was  suddenly 
turned  on  him.  Behind  him,  in  the  shadow, 
several  powerful  men  at  the  word,  "  Now !  my 
hearties!"  in  the  tones  of  Lemuel  Norcross, 
moved  a  huge  joist  on  the  trembling  gate  and  it 
shut,  clanging,  wedged ! 

A   lady  laid   hold    on  the  intruder's  blue  blouse. 

It   was    Puss    Norcross.     She   said,  — 

"  Poor   Lcclere  !  " 

"  Mon    Dieu ! "    cries    the    man    looking  up   in 


268  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 


the  gleam.  "  It  is  the  good  angel  of  North  End ! " 
And  he  dropped  his  wad  of  cotton  wicking  to 
the  ground,  at  the  same  moment  shouting  to  the 
girl,  his  companion  with  the  can,  "  Heloise  ! 
Return !  It  is  she  who  crossed  the  little  dead 
hands  of  thy  sister ! " 

"  Yes,  Leclere."  Puss  poured  her  speech  into 
the  man's  ears,  for  he  had  sunk  on  his  knees 
before  her  as  if  her  soft  touch  on  his  coat-sleeve 
were  a  blow  to  fell  an  ox.  "  Yes.  Oh,  you 
wretched  man  !  Think  of  that  calm  Sabbath  day, 
when  your  priests  had  cast  you  off,  a  communist ; 
when  the  word  came  to  the  mission  that  your 
babe  was  dying !  Think  of  her  pretty,  snowy 
hair !  Her  blue  eyes !  Her  two  little  years  that 
God  gave  her  to  dwell  with  you  and  the  madame  ! 
Think,  Heloise,"  for  the  girl  had  returned  and 
was  kneeling  at  her  father's  side,  "  what  we  have 
tried  to  teach  you  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  You 
promised,  Leclere,  never  more  to  be  an  agita- 
tor  !" 

"Good  angel,  how  came  you  away  up  here?" 
"  Never  mind  that.  There  is  no  time  to  lose. 
Now  turn  to  those  people  outside.  Be  quick ! 
Tell  them  in  good  French  what  the  villagers 
mean  :  that  it  is  no  harm  to  them.  Here,  help 
him  up!"  For  the  gate  could  not  be  opened  and 


A  A'IGffT  OF  TERROR.  269 

it  was  necessary  to  hoist  the  man  to  the  top 
of  the  wall. 

He  obeyed  like  a  machine.  You  know  how 
like  mercury  the  real  French  heart  sends  its 
passion  for  good  or  for  evil,  up  or  down.  His 
speech  was  like  another  torrent.  He  was  always 
magnetic.  His  power  over  an  audience  had  been 
proved  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  and  consigned 
him  to  exile  over  the  seas.  It  required  some 
few  moments,  if  you  had  consulted  the  tower 
clock  in  the  fitful  glare  and  flashes  of  the  night. 

It  seemed  an  age,  ere  the  shout  broke  out, 
"  Vive  Leclcre !  Vive  la  Paix!  Americans!  Nor- 
cross ! "  But  all  that  came.  The  man  leaped 
down  among  them.  He  flew,  like  a  spirit,  from 
person  to  person.  He  was  lost  among  them. 
And  slowly,  yet  surely,  the  night  began  to 
breathe  naturally  once  more,  in  the  beautiful 
village. 


2/0  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


XV. 

TROUBLE  AT  HOME. 

T  T  7ITH  the  details  of  the  night's  pacification 
*  »  we  need  not  concern  ourselves.  How  the 
fires  went  out,  how  order  returned,  how  native 
and  foreign  fraternized  and  sent  up  hurrahs  for 
every  body,  how  the  revulsion  of  feeling  which 
always  ensues,  carried  men  clear  over  into  the 
follies  of  a  joy  as  silly  in  expression  as  the 
forms  of  their  savagery  had  been.  Such  events 
are  quickly  told. 

In  the  large  inner  room  of  the  office  there 
met,  namely :  Pastor  Havens,  Parishioner  Norcross, 
Paul  Havens,  Clara  Norcross,  and  Puss  Norcross. 
Mechanically  they  had  assembled,  all  beating  and 
throbbing  with  excitement  and  exhaustion.  The 
steam  whistle  suddenly  sighed  deeply,  and  stopped ; 
the  gong  wheezed  and  died ;  the  bell,  not  to  be 
left  alone,  ceased  its  clatter.  The  room  was 
painfully  silent.  Pastor  Havens  had  laboriously 
helped  himself  to  a  chair.  The  manufacturer  sunk 
into  one,  and  his  daughter  flew  into  his  arms. 

"Child!"    the   man   cried   with   a    shock,    "you 


TRO  UBLE  A  T  HOME.  2 7 1 


arc  dripping  wet  !  The  place  for  you  is  home  ! 
Whose  carriage  is  that  at  the  door  ? "  And  he 
had  straightened  the  girl  to  her  feet  ;  had  almost 
carried  her  to  the  gate,  but  that  he  was  di- 
minutive and  she  was  a  solid  burden ;  he  had 
thrown  a  sofa  cover  about  her,  all  in  the  one 
breath  of  his  exclamation. 

"  It  is  your  own  carriage,  sir,"  answered  Paul, 
offering  to  go  hasten  the  unblanketing  the  horses 
and  the  turning. 

But,  Norcross  was  too  quick  for  him.  He  him- 
self flung  open  the  door,  dashed  nervously  down 
the  outer  office,  and  saved  himself  the  rest  of  the 
journey  by  shouting  to  the  coachman  the  neces- 
sary orders.  Then  returning,  he  began  bundling 
Clara  out.  Over  his  shoulder  he  flung :  "  You 
too,  Puss,  heaven  bless  you,  you  plucky  lass  ! 
But  then,  you  helped  to  save  some  of  your  own 
property." 

"  But,  papa  dear,"  pleaded  Clara,  "  you  do  not 
know  how  much  you  are  indebted  —  there,  the 
robe  is  slipping  off !  But  I  do  n't  need  it.  Go 
papa,  please,  or  I  will,  and  give  it  to  good 
Pastor  Havens.  He  has  saved  the  village.  He 
is  a  sick  man." 

All  of  which  was  ejaculated  in  a  broken  way, 
as  her  father  was  fairly  hustling  her  along.  She 


2/2  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

had  never  seen  him  so  excited  before.  His  hands 
upon  her  person  recalled  the  childish  punishment 
that  she  last  received  from  him,  more  than  a 
dozen  years  ago.  Yet  she  yielded,  even  to  the 
point  of  entering  the  carriage. 

Puss  Norcross  came  quickly  after  and  entered 
the  vehicle.  Of  course,  she  knew  nothing  of  the 
recent  estrangement  of  pastor  and  parishioner^ 
and  had  her  own  explanations  of  the  distraught 
condition  of  her  uncle's  mind.  She  had  caught 
the  fumes  of  his  breath,  several  times,  on  this 
eventful  evening. 

"  Now,  John,  lash  'em  ! "  said  Norcross,  and 
the  door  slammed  and  clicked. 

"Why,  uncle,  there  is  room  for  at  least  two 
more,"  quietly  remarked  Puss,  in  surprised  tone. 

"  Go  ask  'em  then,  quick ! "  was  the  surly 
response. 

Clara's  hand  was  on  the  silver  handle.  The 
door  creaked.  The  girl's  frozen  robes  clattered 
against  the  vehicle.  She  could  hardly  kick  her 
icy  garments  before  her.  She  seemed  wonder- 
fully beautiful  in  the  glint  of  the  great  lamp 
over  the  door,  like  some  arctic  goddess  In  a 
tableau. 

"Papa!  I  will  never  leave  that  good  man  nor 
Paul  Havens,  wet  and  frozen  as  I  am !  Have  n't 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  2/3 

we  had  horrors  enough  for  one  night,  but  you 
must  add  the  misery  of  brotherly  revenge  ? " 

But  the  half-crazed  man  stopped  to  hear  no 
more.  He  bounded  into  the  office.  The  manner 
of  his  address  to  the  two  gentlemen  within  no 
one  knows.  Suffice  it  that  the  three  soon  ap- 
peared, and  in  silence  the  clergyman  was  handed 
into  the  carriage. 

"  The  back  seat,"  said  Clara,  looking  in  and 
busy  about  these  directions.  "Yes,  yes,  I  am  all 
wet,  you  know."  Then  she  followed,  and  broke 
herself  into  a  sitting  posture,  "Papa,  you  know 
I  'm  a  little  giant,  as  you  often  call  me.  I  have 
health  for — but  what  will  you  do?" 

"  My  coup6  is  always  at  call  here,  Clara ; 
I  will  come  up  directly  I  see  the  office  closed, 
and  things  a  little  more  straightened.  Tell 
mamma " 

"But,  papa,  where  is — where  is  Paul  Havens?" 

"  I  do  not  keep  track  of  the  young  gentle- 
man," was  the  cynical  reply. 

Paul  Havens  was  already  out  of  their  sight  in 
the  darkness.  There  was  nothing,  of  course,  to 
do  but  drive  on  homeward,  without  explanations, 
and  without  delay. 

There  were  explanations  in  abundance,  the  next 
day,  at  the  Norcross  mansion.  Puss,  Clara,  and 


2/4  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

her  mother  spent  most  of  the  hours  in  bed  or 
reclining  before  the  golden  grates,  which  leaped 
with  genial  flame  in  rivalry  of  the  sunbeams 
that  flashed  in  long,  unbroken  peace  through  the 
windows.  Not  a  visitor  disturbed  their  recupera- 
tion, nor  any  household  duty  or  social  demand. 
The  Havens  group  were  returned  to  the  parson- 
age by  the  same  carriage  that  returned  the 
cousins  the  night  before. 

"  Do  n't  you  think  you  ought  to  dress  and  go 
over?  The  dear  man  seemed  so  feeble  last 
night,"  said  Puss,  slipping  out  of  her  rocking- 
chair,  and  drawing  the  breadths  of  silk  and  lace 
about  her  —  Clara's  loaned  dressing-gown,  you 
know,  and  "a  mile  too  big"  for  its  present  thin, 
nervous  wearer.  Puss  dropped  a  knee  on  the  sofa 
by  the  window  and  looked  over  towards  the  lit- 
tle, white,  gable-roofed  parsonage. 

"How  can  I,  coz?  Think  of  Paul's  leaving 
us  as  he  did  last  night.  He  evidently  feels 
compelled,  after  papa's  insane  treatment,  to 
go  steadily  on  the  course  marked  out  when  we 
last  conferred  together."  Yet  an  observer  would 
have  seen  a  light  in  the  brown  eyes,  and  a 
.quiet  radiance  of  good  hope  upon  the  face  that 
was  so  much  different  from  the  gloom  of  the 
last  sad  week.  She  knew  him.  She  knew  the 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME. 


truth  as  between  him  and  Puss,  not  from  Puss, 
nor  from  Paul,  but  instinctively  from  their  com- 
panionship last  night  all  the  way  of  that  dread 
journey. 

The  day  dragged  on,  with  napping,  lunching, 
rocking  the  chairs,  dreaming,  and  talking.  Such 
a  stream  of  talk. 

•'  I  met  him  in  the  street,"  Puss  explained. 
"He  was  just  coming  over  from  Cambridge,  he 

said,  where  he  had  been  to  consult  with  Prof. 

about  his  appointment  on  the  coast-survey  work." 

You  have  no  doubt  that  Clara  listened  to 
every  word  of  this  narrative,  as  Puss  went  on. 
"  He  had  received  his  appointment,  and  was  to 
be  off  for  Florida  the  next  day.  You  know, 
Andrew  had  told  me  .just  this  —  the  close- 
mouthed  fellow  —  that  Mr.  Havens  was  to  go 
on  the  survey.  Of  course  we  could  not  under- 
stand. Papa  stoutly  disputed  it.  Mr.  Havens 
could  n't  spare  time  to  come  to  the  house,  was 
stopping  at  some  cheap  hotel.  It  was  all  so 
strange.  Then  came  a  letter  from  papa.  Then 
some  telegrams  about  the  mill  trouble.  Then  we 
were  so  distressed  about  uncle's  whereabouts. 
Then  I  remembered  about  this  unhappy  man, 
Leclere;  I  think  the  Journal  first  mentioned 
his  name,  as  being  the  occasion  of  the  trouble 


276  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

here.  Of  course  I  found  Mr.  Havens,  and  told 
him  my  plan.  I  felt  privileged  to  seek  Mr. 
Paul,  being  certain  of  my  influence  with  that 
communist.  We  at  once  decided  to  come  on 
together.  We  met  your  papa  at  Nashua  Junction. 
It  was  a  great  surprise.  You  know  the  rest." 

"  Did  papa  and  Paul  have  any  conversation 
on  the  train  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Norcross. 

"Scarcely  any.  But,  though  I  noticed  his  want 
of  cordiality,  —  he  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the 
smoking  compartment,  —  I  attributed  it  to  the 
village  trouble.  Then  what  Andrew  had  said  — 
oh,  I  do  n't  know  !  It  is  all  a  dream.  You  have 
told  me  the  first  real  facts  in  the  case." 

On  this  face,  too,  there  was  a  look  of  satis- 
faction and  hopefulness  which  grew  as  the  fatigues 
of  the  previous  day  gave  way.  There  was  a 
wide  difference  in  the  health,  and  hence  in  the 
recovery,  of  these  two  girls. 

"I  understand,"  at  one  time  remarked  simple 
Mrs.  Norcross  to  Puss,  "that  you  quite  approved 
of  Paul  Havens'  choice  of  vocation.  You  ought 
to  be  very  happy." 

"  I  ? "  was  the  quick  response.  She  managed 
her  face  well,  however ;  and  then,  too,  it  was 
not  Clara,  but  her  mother,  who  was  putting  this 
question  to  her.  "  What  is  it  to  me,  aunt  ?  No 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  2// 

doubt  the  property  will  be  managed  somehow. 
For  that  matter,  papa  has  already  given  me  two 
hundred  thousand.  lie  said  it  seemed  best.  In- 
deed, I  think  papa  feels  that  we  are  rich  enough, 
as  a  family,  and  wonders  at  Uncle  Lemuel's 
devotion  to  business.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to 
tell  it,  —  I  do  n't  know,  — but  sister  and  I  have 
no  prospective  interest  in  the  mills  now.  It 's 
only  Andrew  whom  papa  is  looking  after." 

This  was  so  serious  a  turn  to  the  conversa- 
tion, that  the  good  matron — who  really  loved 
money  as  much  as  her  husband,  being  Yankee 
born  and  thrifty  —  did  not  pursue  her  motherly 
purpose,  to  "drag  to  light  the  exact  state  of 
things  in  Puss'  heart." 

The  April  day  —  winter  in  the  morning  and 
spring  at  midday — had  declined  again  to  winter, 
for  the  sun  was  setting.  Sleighs  in  the  morning, 
wheeled  vehicles  at  noon,  a  few  sleighs  at  night 
again;  but  fewer  each  evening,  over  the  the  grid- 
ironed  streets,  toiled  past  the  warm  windows  of 
the  drawing-room  where  Clara  and  Puss  stood 
looking  dreamily  out,  each  looping  a  curtain  over 
her  hand  and  shoulders.  What  a  contrast  in 
hands  and  shoulders  !  But  the  two  faces  had  the 
identical  expression,  at  the  first  glance,  as  the 
two  tongues  exclaimed  in  concert,  — 


2/8  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"There   goes    Paul    Havens!" 

Then  the  two  faces  changed  their  expression, 
—  one  into  satisfaction,  the  other  into  unmis- 
takable distress,  yet  with  such  a  gleam  of  faith 
over  all. 

The  latter  face,  Clara's,  said,  "  It  is  nearly 
time  for  the  Boston  express.  He  is  to  take  that, 
no  doubt."  The  other  face  said,  "  Yes,"  and  then 
its  owner  dropped  the  curtain  which  she  had 
been  holding,  at  the  same  time  moving  away. 

The  other  face  still  tarried  at  the  window.  A 
hand  was  ready.  He  has  not  looked  back  yet. 
He  must  pick  his  way  over  the  ice-ruts  of  that 
path  that  descends  abruptly  the  steep  aclivity 
to  Franklin  Square.  It  is  a  short  cut  for  a 
pedestrian  loaded  with  a  hand-bag.  He  is  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill.  He  looks  back.  He  is  very 
conspicuous,  —  manly,  strong,  against  the  after- 
glow of  the  western  sky.  She  can  see  what, 
perhaps,  no  one  else  could,  save  his  tender- 
hearted mother,  who  may  be  also  watching  from 
windows  with  smaller  panes,  —  that  he  starts  with 
surprise.  She  lets  the  curtain  fall  behind  her. 
Its  purple  is  the  background  for  her,  statuesque, 
and  the  afterglow  illumines  her;  howbeit,  she  had 
only  thought  of  concealment  from  that  other 
young  lady  who  was  now  thrumming  the  piano. 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  2 79 

He  has  defied  judgment,  prudence,  reason,  reso- 
lution ;  all  those  forces  to  the  winds  !  He  has 
obeyed  his  heart  and  saluted  her.  She  has 
thrown  him  one  in  return  —  that  fond  old  kiss 
throwing  which  is  among  the  earliest  motions 
which  our  infantile  hands  are  taught. 

The  usual  family  dinner  soon  ensued.  The  la- 
dies, indeed,  were  already  dressed  and  waiting  for  it, 
when  they  first  took  their  stations  by  the  win- 
dow. It  was  a  somewhat  stately  affair,  this  fam- 
ily dinner,  so  far  as  dressing,  servants,  courses, 
and  pretensions  were  concerned.  Clara  did  her 
best,  always,  to  lend  to  the  ceremonies  the  true 
refinement  of  simplicity  and  unaffected  love.  But 
her  mother  had  borrowed  the  formalities  bodily 
from  books  and  experience  amid  the  society-ways 
of  such  very  wealthy  people  they  mingled  with 
on  their  frequent  city  visits.  She  insisted,  dear, 
simple,  kindly-intentioned  heart,  that  their  wealth 
and  station  demanded  it. 

Brushed,  smoothed,  and  wearing  his  hard  smile, 
Mr.  Norcross  entered  the  dining-room  with : 
"Well,  Puss,  after  our  little  village-row,  you  will 
stay  and  make  us  that  visit,  while  you  rest. 
'T  is  n't  the  best  time  to  come  to  the  country, 
as  you  know,"  handing  her  with  brusque  formal- 
ity to  a  chair.  "Just  now  we  have  —  well, 


280  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


there  's  no  opera,  my  child,  and  our  church  is  not 
in  a  happy  state.  Pastor's  just  resigning;  here's 
his  note  to  that  effect  in  my  pocket,  by  the  way. 
But  you  can  go  sugaring ;  you  know  how  you 
used  to  like  maple  sugar,  years  ago,  up  here  — " 
the  head  down,  and  a  meaningless  mumble,  which 
no  one  could  understand,  though  the  standing 
servants  and  the  seated  family  all  bowed  the 
head. 

"I  am  inexpressibly  pained  to  —  to  hear,"  Puss 
returned,  "that  you  are  to  part  with  pastor  — 
with  the  Havens  family,  uncle." 

"Oh,  well,"  he  replied,  smoothing  out  his  nap- 
kin and  wrinkling  up  his  face,  "  it 's  immate- 
rial. You  know  pastors  now-a-days  are  birds  of 
passage ;  have  n't  altogether  liked  the  man  for 
months ;  getting  old ;  wanted  to  pension  him  off 
a  year  ago,  but  the  folks  over  to  the  parsonage 
are  pr  —  are  very  sensitive  people." 

"Papa,"  Clara  began,  her  eyes  swimming,  for 
the  sudden  mention  of  that  resignation  in  her 
father's  pocket  was  so  unexpected,  "papa,  he  is 
so  paternal  in  his  preaching  of  late,  like  some  old 
prophet " 

"  Yes  indeed,"  sipping  the  soup,  "  altogether 
too  much  so.  Preaches  at  —  I  do  n't  mind  speak- 
ing of  it  here  in  the  family  —  straight  at  me, 


TROUBLE  A7^  HOME.  28 1 

Sabbath  after  Sabbath  !  "  But  then,  glancing  up 
at  the  lugubrious  shadows  on  the  ladies'  faces, 
and  remembering  that  of  all  things  he  abominated 
a  "  sober  dinner,"  he  added,  "  it 's  all  right.  His 
children  can  take  good  care  of  him.  Let 's  treat 
them  with  the  utmost  kindness  while  they  stay. 
Mark  me,"  with  the  smack  of  hard  authority, 
"  that 's  my  wish.  Necessary  for  the  peace  of 
the  church.  The  church  is  every  thing.  I  must 
guard  the  church.  Let  's  dismiss  the  topic." 

"But,  sir,"  Puss  ventured  to  resume,  "Are  not 
the  church  greatly  attached  to  him  ?  Have  they 
no  voice  in  this  matter  ?  Papa " 

"  Oh,  I  know  Bill's  way"  he  answered,  shaking 
his  head  as  he  arose  to  carve.  "  Of  course  there 
will  be  a  little  scene.  But  they  always  acquiesce 
in  my  judgement.  They  are  good  fellows,  the 
brethren.  Saved  my  mills,  my  dears !  Yes,  in- 
deed ! "  carving  away.  "  I  know  that  the  simple 
piety  of  the  common  people  —  Christian  people  — 
saved  the  village  from  ruin.  Distributed  a  thou- 
sand dollars  to-day,  by  way  of  rewards.  A  little 
money  goes  a  great  ways.  Any  choice  of  cuts, 
Puss  ?  Do  n't  know  your  tastes  like  the  others." 

"  But,  papa,"  Clara  remonstrated,  yet  very 
gently,  for  she  had  \to  acknowledge  to  herself  a 
growing  sense  of  almost  fear  of  her  father,  of 


282  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

late,  in  his  changed  mood,  "  do  you  think  it  your 
privilege  to  so  dispose  of  affairs  in  —  in  a 
Christian  church  ?  " 

"  How,    child  ? "    with    a   blank    stare. 

"Why,    consulting   your    own    wishes    only." 

"Clara,  didn't  —  I  —  build  —  this  edifice  from 
corner-stone  to  cross  ? " 

"Don't  lose  patience  with  me,  uncle  Lem," 
said  Puss,  interlacing  her  fingers  and  leaning  on 
the  table  edge ;  "  but  surely,  papa  paid  half 
the  cost  of  our  great  church  at  home,  and 
yet  he  regards  himself  the  servant  of  others, — 
the  conservator  of  the  wishes  of  the  humble 


poor 

"  Now  please  do  n't  preach,"  Mr.  Norcross, 
replied,  thinking  banter  better  than  argument 
with  ladies,  "and  I  '11  show  you  what  I  brought, 
—  well,  Puss,  I  didn't  expect  to  find  you  here 
of  course ;  but  your  present  is  to  come,  you 
brave  girl,  be  sure  of  that.  Sleepy  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter,  who  answered 
Mr.  Norcross'  use  of  this  name ;  but  it  would 
have  been  almost  worth  the  life  of  any  colored 
person  in  town  to  have  so  addressed  Mr.  Charles 
Sumner  Biglake,  chief  servant  at  "  the  man- 
sion." He  was  a  New  Hampshire  born  negro. 
He  said,  "yes,  sir,"  not  yes,  sar.  He  folded 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  283 


his  hands  under  his  apron,  in  the  most  approved 
style,  and  bowed  obsequiously. 

"  Go  into  the  den,  and  on  the  center  table, 
right  beside  my  gloves  I  think,  —  wonder  I 
have  n't  lost  the  parcels  in  the  last  few  hours' 
fracas,  —  bring  me  what  you  find.  If  they  are 
not  there,  two  boxes,  look  in  the  tail  pockets 
of  my  overcoat." 

Meanwhile  silence,  and  change  of  course.  The 
silence,  being  fatal  to  hope,  grew  painful.  Mrs. 
Norcross,  who  had  hardly  spoken  during  the 
meal,  returned  to  remark  that  her  husband 
looked  "fresher  than  in  the  morning,  if  he  had 
had  only  two  hours'  sleep."  To  which  it  was 
hardly  worthy  to  be  called  a  reply,  the  "  Oh, 
I  'm  well  enough.  Sleepy  !  Sleepy  !  " 

But  as  the  man  yet  lingered,  Mr.  Norcross 
said,  "  Now  daught"  —  short  for  daughter,  —  "  just 
choke  it  down.  Please,  do !  You  shall  have  any 
thing  in  the  world.  Do  n't  cry.  Ah,  Sleepy, 
come  at  last  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  In  your  cigar-box,  sir.  Had  to 
hunt." 

"  Well,"  snatching  the  parcels  and  tearing 
them  open.  "  There,  Clara.  That  's  the  new 
3tecl  gray  diamond.  Or  steel  blue,  I  forget 
which.  It 's  the  rage  now.  Two  rings.  Tiffany's. 


284  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Here,  mamma."  For  he  had  to  toss  the  precious 
thing  across  the  table  to  his  wife.  Puss,  at  his 
right  hand,  was  examining  as  she  passed  on 
Clara's,  two  pretty  heads  together. 

And  so  we  get  off  clear  of  the  troublesome 
ministerial  question,  no  doubt,  and  back  again 
into  our  own  world  of  wealth  and  its  spending. 
This  clerical  affair  was  a  mere  incident  at  most. 
It  will  not  be  necessary  to  think  of  it  again 
before  Sunday.  The  church  and  Sunday ;  one 
day  out  of  seven.  We  can  talk  now  of  where 
we  have  been,  what  city  friends  we  saw,  of 
city  gossip  and  personalities.  We  can  forget,  at 
the  dinner  table  and  while  we  smoke  our  after- 
dinner  cigar,  and  the  ladies  sing  and  play,  and 
mother  sits  with  folded  hands  and  worships  us, 
forget  all  our  servants  and  subordinates,  whether 
cooks  or  clergy. 

Or  we  could  have  done  so  until  recently.  Now 
however,  a  letter  in  our  pocket  —  but  that  will 
come  up  in  routine.  Now  the  vision  of  a  strong, 
resolute  young  fellow,  square  set  across  all  our 
plans  of  life  —  but  him  we  have  disposed  of. 
Now  something  else  on  our  mind.  Not  the 
village  riot,  for  that  is  quelled.  Not  softenings 
or  relentings  of  heart  and  pangs  of  conscience 
over  our  proposed  treatment  of  a  saintly  old 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  285 


man  ;  not  perplexity  about  our  daughter's  hap- 
piness, for  we  can  buy  her  any  thing  which  this 
world  can  offer. 

You  have  not  guessed  aright,  ladies,  though 
you  study  intently  the  fitful  and  unnatural  moods 
of  the  man;  study  as  you  try  dutifully  to  make 
his  half  hour,  graciously  granted  before  the  toil 
in  his  den,  as  resonant  with  song  and  cheer  as 
dutiful  and  beautiful  women  can. 

Meanwhile,  the  spring  advances.  The  fiery 
summer  that  blazes  over  the  everglades  of 
Florida  is  transferred  into  weeping  and  smiling 
early  spring  in  New  Hampshire.  From  the  man- 
sion to  the  cottage  —  rarely  from  the  cottage  to 
the  mansion — the  ladies  come  and  go.  From 
Key  West  to  Cape  Sable,  on  up  the  gorgeous, 
fatal  coast  to  Cape  Romano,  threading  its  way 
through  festoons  of  maiden's  hair  and  lakes  of 
wondrous  lilies  that  seek  in  vain  to  defend  the 
virgin  rivers,  —  the  government  steam  launch 
comes  and  goes.  The  snows  are  all  gone  from 
the  northern  hills,  and  May  has  come.  The 
visitors  are  all  gone  from  St.  Augustine  even, 
and  many  a  shape  of  peril  has  come.  Puss 
lingers  and  goes  "  Maying "  with  Clara,  for  the 
time  begins  to  hang  heavy,  and  when  they  come 
into  dinner,  fresh-plucked  trailing  arbutus  smells 


286  DOLLARS  AArD  DUTY. 

sweet  upon  the  table,  as  no  other  flower  of  the 
older  year  ever  does.  Paul  Havens  also  lingers 
far  away,  and  time  is  not  allowed  to  hang 
heavy.  When  the  young  engineer  comes  in,  to 
sleep  in  fort  or  under  canvas,  why  there  are 
the  day's  observations  to  make  up,  and  a  strange 
stiffness  in  the  back  and  very  bones  to  be  slept 
away.  No  news  of  this  bone-ache  is  sent  away 
in  the  letters;  be  careful  of  that. 

Puss  and  Clara  are  of  one  mind  about  the 
Havens  family.  "  You  told  me  the  truth  about 
them,  long  ago,"  says  Puss.  "  The  more  I  see 
them  the  more  I  love  them  all.  I  wish  it 
were  possible  to  share  our  abundance  with  them." 

"  Because  I  know  them  so  well  and  wish  to 
keep  their  love,"  is  Clara's  reply,  "I  do  not  try 
that.  But  they  have  a  strong  hand,"  and  her 
voice  quavered,  "to  their  defending." 

The  strong  hand  was,  indeed,  earning  much. 
Such  service  earned  its  price.  It  was  not  the 
money  which  troubled  Paul  Havens.  It  was  that 
his  uniform  grew  unmistakably  too  ample :  he 
used  to  catch  at  the  breast  of  his  coat  and  gather 
it  in  folds.  Yet  he  ate  voraciously,  and  was  not 
weakened,  no,  not  weakened.  There  arc  times 
when  the  chief  officer  of  an  expedition  must  keep 
up  for  his  men's  sake.  There  is  all  of  May  and 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME. 


half  of  June  to  come  yet.  They  who  need  much 
money  must  earn  it.  They  who  would  earn  much 
money  in  a  short  time  must  do  or  suffer  many 
things.  Better  have  the  bones  ache,  than  the 
heart  and  conscience  ache. 

Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Lemuel  Norcross  ?  If  the 
fellow  with  the  aching  bones  could  only  have  seen 
the  fellow  with  the  aching  heart  and  conscience, 
and  head,  yes,  and  feet,  too,  running  about  these 
clays  !  What  could  have  so  disturbed  Norcross 
these  days  ?  Not  the  sense  of  any  wrongs  in- 
flicted on  the  Havens  company  ?  Probably  not ; 
for  this  was  not  the  first  pastor  to  be  hard 
handled.  Indeed,  he  was  long  since  quite  hardened, 
lucky  man,  to  the  dismission  of  employe's. 

"  Will  this  Congress  never  get  out  of  Washing- 
ton ?  This  abominable  extra  session ! "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Norcross  one  evening.  "  Here  it  is  June  to- 
morrow. Puss,  excuse  your  uncle ;  but  when  are 
you  planning  to  go  home  ? " 

"Indeed,  uncle,"  she  answered,  with  a  laugh, 
"  I  ought  to  have  gone  two  weeks  ago.  My  poor 
little  mission " 

"  Oh,   bother   the   mission !  "   was    his   impatient 

reply.     "  Come,    let 's    all    go    on    to    Washington. 

I    must   go.     I  '11  strangle   our   senator  if  he  do  n't 

-  but   no   matter.      Clara   and   mother,    what    say 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


you  ?  You  can  take  the  first  peep  at  the  Water 
Gap,  or  go  along  to  West  Virginia  and  the 
mounains." 

Clara  and  Puss  exchanged  glances.  Mrs.  Nor- 
cross,  who  evidently  was  in  the  secret,  merely 
glanced  up  over  her  knitting  —  she  indulged  the 
early  habit  only  at  home  —  as  much  as  to  say, 
"I  told  you  so."  All  of  this  took  a  few  seconds 
of  time. 

"  Settled,  then,  is  it  ?  Sleepy,  have  my  own 
car  put  in  order  for  to-morrow  noon's  New  York 
express,"  said  Mr.  Norcross. 

"  But,  papa,"  Clara  objected,  approaching  and 
standing  over  him,  familiarly  arranging  his  black 
locks  over  his  one  bold  spot,  "  I  was  going  down 
with  Puss  for  a  month."  She  did  not  add  that 
she  and  Puss  had  consulted  with  her  mother  as 
to  the  propriety  of  the  two  happening  to  be  at 
Amherst  on  Commencement-Day,  June  25th. 

Curious  that  they  could  plan  this  together  ? 
Perhaps  so ;  but  together,  with  Andrew  along, 
there  could  be  no  impropriety  in  it.  Then,  too, 
possibly  Mr.  William  Norcross,  of  the  Missionary 
Board,  would  join  them,  for  he  had  developed  a 
decided  interest  in  the  "saintly  Stephen  Crane, 
destined  for  the  Dark  continent,"  who  would 
then  graduate. 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  289 


But  there  was  no  need  to  tell  this.  The 
penetration  of  this  acute  man  was  wonderful. 
What  others  inquired  to  know,  Lemuel  Norcross 
know  by  intuition ;  or  rather  by  that  rapid  and 
brilliant  action  of  mind  that  matched  motives  and 
reasons  with  almost  the  assurance  of  prophesy. 
However,  he  was  too  politic  to  reveal  his 
thoughts,  assuming  a  playful  air,  like  velvet 
covering  iron,  he  said,  —  "  Pshaw  !  Boston  's  dull 
as  a  hoe  at  this  season.  Besides,  I  want  you 
to  meet  a  young  friend  of  mine,  son  of  Gov- 
ernor Nevada!  There!" 

Ah,  how  the  shrewd  man,  in  the  very  pride 
of  his  shrewdness,  had  blundered,  manlike.  But 
still  he  could  not  see  the  flush  on  the  fair  face, 
bending  down  as  the  delicate  fingers  sought  out  a 
gray  hair  and  smoothed  it  in  among  the  raven  black. 

Two  months  ago,  the  loving  arms  of  this 
trembling  creature  would  have  wound  about  the 
man's  neck  and  the  brown  cheeks  would  have 
stifled  his  veto  of  her  own  wishes.  But  he  is  a 
changed  man  of  late,  we  notice.  Hence,  the  girl 
looked  pleadingly  over  to  her  mother  with  whom 
this  only  child  still  had  all  power.  And  it 
needed  a  tremendous  power  to  embolden  Mrs. 
Norcross  to  say  it,  with  many  a  "hem"  and  a 
laying  down  and  taking  up  of  her  knitting. 


290  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Father,"  she  began  and  approaching  him  to 
try  on  the  wristlets,  which,  with  his  blue,  wool 
socks,  comprised  the  work  now  left  these  needles. 
"  The  girls  and  I  rather  want  to  say  goodby 
to  the  Havenses,  next  week.  You  do  n't  care, 
do  you  ?  Let  me  try  on  this  wristlet." 

He  submitted  in  silence  to  the  adjustment  of 
the  maroon  woolen ;  he  neither  said  that  it  fitted 
or  ill-fitted ;  he  did  not  break  the  stillness  for 
some  of  those  seconds  that  are  so  provokingly 
long ;  then  he  arose,  lit  his  cigar  over  the  Ar- 
gand,  and  gathering  up  his  hands  full  of  "the 
house-mail,"  turned  to  remark, — 

"You  can  follow  your  own  inclinations,  my 
dears.  I  generally  am  left  to  myself,  of  late.  I 
shall  go  to  Washington  in  the  morning.  Please 
let  me  know,  when  Sleepy  comes  in,  what  you 
decide.  I  do  n't  need  a  whole  car."  And  he 
moved  off  to  the  den. 

After  he  was  gone,  glances  and  tears  argued 
it  out.  There  was  no  cackling,  as  became  the 
intelligent  and  loving.  When  the  women  of  a 
man's  household  give  him  over,  he  is  gone  ;  bet- 
ter hold  on  hard  and  long. 

So  was  it.  And  that  very  evening,  there  were 
goodbys  spoken,  over  in  the  parsonage  sitting- 
room,  and  embraces  and  tears,  with  hope  and 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME. 


faith  to  keep  some,  and  doubt  and  despair  to 
drag  down  others. 

Who  can  describe  a  leave-taking  of  love  ? 
What  need  of  it  ?  I  would  like  to  attempt  the 
description,  to  some  happy  denizen  of  another 
world  than  this,  to  whom  it  might  be  altogeth- 
er fresh  information.  I  would  begin  thus,  — 

"  This  is  one  of  the  sensations  which  we  mor- 
tals often  have.  It  is  called  a  farewell,  or  a 
goodby  ;  it  is  exquisite  in  its  thrill  and  agita- 
tion of  the  whole  being.  Now,  listen,  angel:  I 
portray  to  you  a  parting  scene.  Rehearse  this 
not,  O  celestial  foreigner,  to  any  of  my  fellow-mor- 
tals, for  they  would  all  have  me  in  derision  for 
my  failure  ;  but  I  may  attempt  it  with  you.  Con- 
ceive of  love  ;  love  almost  like  your  celestial  pas- 
sion, at  times.  Conceive,  then,  of  a  rending,  a 
throwing  of  one  heart  to  the  east,  and  another 
to  the  west,  so  far  —  what?  You  can  not  con- 
ceive of  that  ?  Then,  listen,  while  I  begin 
again." 

Then  I  would  attempt  to  portray  the  June 
Sabbath  that  fell  down  out  of  the  heavens, 
soft  as  heavenly  light,  and  over  Crosston,  four 
days  later  than  the  last  recorded  incidents  of  this 
story.  How  the  June  fell,  like  a  blessing,  in 
through  the  open  windows  and  doors  of  every 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


dwelling  in  all  Crosston,  except  alone  the  win- 
dows and  doors  of  the  Norcross  mansion.  These 
were  closed,  blinded,  and  curtained  one  very  side, 
save  the  servants'  ell.  The  June  lay  softly  in 
through  the  stone  mullions  and  sashes  of  the 
granite  church  that  Mr.  Norcross  built.  The 
song  of  birds  was  everywhere  ;  their  morning  con- 
certs in  June  Sabbaths  are  prolonged  till  they 
mingle  with  the  organ  rumble,  at  half-past  ten 
o'clock.  Well-bred  country  birds,  —  robins,  for  in- 
stance, not  your  piping  city  sparrows,  those 
crest-fallen  mendicants  of  the  sidewalk,  —  will  often 
come  and  sit  on  the  shrubbery  that  nods  in  the 
church-yard,  and  join  in  the  hymns  of  praise  to 
the  common  Father.  You  may  see  a  devout 
robin-  redbreast,  sometimes,  listening,  unmistakably 
listening,  to  the  sermon,  his  pert  head  turning  and 
debating,  no  doubt,  as  he  watches  the  preacher 
through  the  open  sash  by  the  pulpit,  the  bird 
upon  the  flowering  vine  of  morning-glory. 

The  buzz  of  harmless  insects  is  in  the  drowsy 
air,  their  gentle  murmur  like  the  sweet  air's 
voice  of  peace,  and  you  listen  as  if  the  balmy 
air,  once  a  year  in  June,  had  been  given  speech 
to  tell  you  how  it  yearns  to  bless  you.  The 
clean-robed  children,  on  their  way  to  church, 
harken  mystified,  and  then,  discovering  the  cause, 


TROUBLE  A  T  HOME,  293 

add  their  glee  of  laughter  to  the  murmur  of  the 
happy  insect  life.  Such  peace  is  in  the  perfume 
of  a  million  flowers — heavy,  abundant,  intoxicating 
to  the  tired  nerves !  Such  reverence  is  in  the  call 
of  the  bell — poor  city  folk,  you  hate  the  bell 
that  rings  in  your  very  chamber  window  —  the 
bell,  apart  from  all,  upon  the  village-green,  whose 
note  is  softened  in  the  vast  spaces  of  the  val- 
ley, and  mellowed  by  the  verdant,  giant  hills, 
and  echoed  on  for  miles  ;  till  the  very  flocks  on 
distant  pasture  uplands,  pause  from  their  feeding 
to  rejoice  with  the  unyoked  ox  of  their  com- 
pany bellowing  his  amen. 

One  would  almost  dare  hope  that  bell  might 
be  heard  in  far-away  Florida  marshes,  for  it 
must  certainly  be  heard  in  heaven,  angel  ;  heard 
in  a  distant  Boston  avenue,  also  ;  heard  in  the 
pretty  little  park  that  fronts  the  president's  house 
in  Washington,  where  a  young  lady,  alone  and 
lost  in  listening,  doubtless,  for  the  bell  so  far 
away,  stood  in  the  scant  shadow  of  the  eques- 
trian Jackson,  and  wrote  the  initials  of  a  young 
man's  name  in  the  gravel,  with  the  tip  of  her 
sunshade. 

And  now  the  orderly  muster  of  the  white- 
robed,  flower-decked  women,  men  fresh-starched 
and  shaven,  and  youth  in  attire  of  simple  village 


294  DOLLARS  AND  DUT\. 


coquetry ;  for  there  is  no  other  scene  for  the  dis- 
play of  dress,  and  such  dress  can  hardly  offend 
the  God  whose  day  it  is  most  meant  to  honor. 
The  greetings,  too,  almost  like  heaven,  angel  ; 
so  are  the  week-day  strifes  forgot.  Strifes  ? 
What  strifes  can  there  be,  angel,  among  them 
where  none  are  rich,  and  none  are  poor ;  none 
borrower,  none  lender ;  save  the  tradesman  here 
and  there,  and  he  smilingly  gracious  in  that  spell 
which  hallows  all  at  the  doors  of  the  house  of 
God. 

A  noble  building  this,  whose  cost  was  never 
counted ;  a  cathedral  fit  for  a  capital.  It  lacks 
nothing,  but  soon  is  to  lack  every  thing ! — at  least, 
so  one  would  judge,  to  read  the  thousand  faces 
all  inscribed  with  fear  and  some  with  tears 
already.  Yet,  speaking  of  the  faces,  angel,  note 
how  submissive  are  they  all ;  not  stout  to 
resist  or  utter  protest.  There  is  that  one  blem- 
ish on  the  New  England  face  —  the  dollar-rcvcr- 
cnce,  and  grown  plainer  of  late  years  since  the 
men  left  the  sterile,  honest  farms  for  the  great 
men's  shops.  All  these  know  full  well  who 
built  this  church  of  which  they  have  been  so 
proud,  in  which  they  have  been  so  happy  and 
now  arc  so  miserable.  All  these  are  both  com- 
fortable and  wretched ;  they  are  in  confusion  of 


TROUBLE  AT  HOME.  295 


soul  between  the  two.  The  comfort  is  most 
inviting,  and  they  will  acquiesce.  The  bustling 
old  usher  in  the  main  aisle  has  left  one  pew 
empty  a  long  while ;  yet  why  need  he  ?  It  will 
not  be  filled  by  its  usual  occupants ;  therefore 
fill  it  with  strangers  and  ease  the  staring  eyes 
of  many. 

"Beloved,  it  is  the  last  time."  Oh,  ye  memories! 
Ye  grudges  and  piques  that  are  human  !  Ye 
srnartings  from  rebukes  and  exhortations,  rise  up 
and  be  revenged,  now,  in  many  souls.  What, 
no  ?  All  forgotten  ?  What,  ye  confess  the  motive 
good  and  kind  ?  That  's  the  power  of  a  parting, 
angel,  and  is  the  only  sweet  in  the  bitter. 

Oh,  ye  memories !  The  house  of  mourning 
and  the  house  of  feasting  ;  pictures,  with  this  old 
pastor  painted  in  the  foreground  always.  He 
kissed  the  bride  ;  he  kissed  your  dead  and  wept 
like  you.  But  it  is  the  last  time.  Oh,  ye 
memories!  —  the  secrets  of  the  heart  which  this 
man  knows  ;  the  tale  of  penitence  told  at  mid- 
night ;  the  rescue  from  temptation ;  the  cloak  of 
charity,  with  the  whispered  words  of  hope  and 
call  to  new  resolves  ;  the  family  shame,  the 
family  honor,  and  all  the  long  list  of  brotherly, 
not  priestly,  confidences,  given  because  he  was 
worthy  and  had  earned  them,  not  by  authority. 


296  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


It  is  a  thread  woven  into  the  very  texture  of 
the  village  life.  The  thread  has  been  like  a 
heart-string,  quivering  with  his  own  vital  force ; 
it  has  wasted  him  and  made  him  old  before  his 
time.  But  it  is  over  now ;  it  is  the  last 
time. 

The  tearing  of  such  a  thread  out  from  a 
thousand  lives  sorely  hurts  us,  angel,  in  a  part- 
ing. You  see,  parts  of  the  thread  can  never  be 
picked  out  ;  it  is  impossible  to  disentangle  all 
its  delicate  coils  ;  one  docs  not  realize  how  it  is 
knotted  and  clasped  in  about  his  very  heart  till 
a  rude  hand  pulls  at  it.  Doubtless  we  shall 
snap  and  snip  the  most  of  it  away ;  but  some 
poor  fragments  will  throb  and  pain  for  years. 

He  leads  them  forth  like  a  shepherd,  from 
pew  to  porch,  from  porch  to  grassy  lawns  that 
undulate  to  the  dusty  highway,  young  and  old 
still  clinging ;  and  lingering  now  about  his 
dwelling.  A  day  to  break  one's  heart ! 

But  the  next  day  is  harder.  The  sun  is 
shining  just  the  same  as  on  any  Monday  of  a 
ten  years  gone,  the  mills  are  humming,  and  the 
sexton  peaks  the  stained  glass  windows  to  let 
out  the  dust,  for  he  -is  sweeping.  Poor  sexton, 
what  else  shall  do  ?  —  for  he  must  earn  his 
bread. 


BURIED  Iff  A    GREAT  CITY.  297 


XVI. 

BURIED   IN   A   GREAT   CITY. 

*t  1F)URIED  in  a  great  city!"  exclaimed 
-*— '  Bella  Havens,  as  she  alighted  from  the 
cars  in  the  Boston  and  Lowell  depot. 

"  Lost  in  a  crowd !  "  echoed  her  father,  as  he 
leaned  hard  on  the  'arms  of  his  tw.o  daughters, 
the  mother  following. 

"  How  many,  many  bright  fellows  have  I 
known,"  the  clergyman  continued,  meditatively 
bending  forward  on  his  cane  in  the  cheap  hack 
for  which  they  had  at  length  bargained,  "  who 
at  last  came  here,  and  to  other  great  cities,  to 
be  buried,  as  Bella  has  well  put  it,"  and  he 
gnawed  the  head  of  his  staff. 

"  That  is,  when  worn  out,  you  mean,"  said 
Bella,  who  was  quite  down. 

"  Yes,  living  with  some  hard-worked  son  or 
daughter's  husband."  he  added,  rubbing  the  mist 
from  the  window  with  his  glove.  "Hundreds  on 
hundreds  of  all  professions,  no  doubt,  but  espe- 
cially of  my  profession.  The  world's  ear  was 
aching  with  their  fame  yesterday,  when,  snap ! 


298  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

the  nerve  broke.  Then  plunged  into  just  such 
silence  and  obscurity  as  these  same  mean 
rents,"  pointing  out,  for  they  had  now  begun  to 
jolt  over  the  miserable  pavements  of  the  out- 
skirts of  the  city. 

"  But,  papa,"  Mrs.  Havens  remarked  sweetly, 
laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  you  do  not  regret  ? 
Our  reward  is  not  here  ? " 

The  rising  inflection  told  this  story,  very  old 
in  the  parsonage,  that  a  minister  must  ever  be 
preaching,  stout-hearted,  to  the  inmates  of  his 
own  home.  This  one  was  ready  to  re-assert  his 
faith  at  once.  As  calm  a  smile  as  hers  greeted 
her,  as  he  replied,  "No  regrets,  Julia.  It  is  all 
well.  I  have  peace  like  a  river !  There  is  not 
a  richer  man  in  this  opulent  city  than  I,  if  the 
conscious  possession  of  all  I  need  constitutes 
riches." 

"  Yet,  in  fact,  dear  papa,"  put  in  Nora,  who 
had  hitherto  kept  her  silence  as  she  held  the 
slip  of  paper  on  which  Paul  had  written  the 
street  and  number  of  the  tenement  which  he 
had  hired  for  them,  "in  fact,  we  are,  indeed, 
very  rich  in  such  a  stout  friend  as  our  glorious 
Paul." 

"And  more  glorious  Stephen,"  added  Bella, 
with  the  slightest  possible  acid  of  misery  and 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY.  299 

envy;  envy,  not  of  Steve  and  Africa, — oh,  no,  very 
evidently  not  that  ;  but  envy  of  her  sister's  happi- 
ness in  a  satisfying  love.  Indeed  the  high-spirited 
girl  had  not  been  especially  fitted  for  her  lot  in 
life  by  college.  She  had  simply  been  educated 
out  of  "  her  station  "  ;  no  doubt  of  it.  But  that 
is  common  enough  to  need  no  comment.  As 
for  her  religion,  what  she  had  of  it,  it  simply 
brought  her  to  her  knees,  night  and  morning, 
but  otherwise  tortured  her.  It  was  of  the 
head,  not  of  the  heart.  Were  it  not  for  her 
religious  scruples,  she  would  go  upon  the  stage 
to-morrow  !  She  would  furnish  her  life  as  richly 
as  any  of  that  bevy  of  actresses,  members  of  a 
traveling  company,  whom  she  saw  alighting  from 
the  Pullman  car  just  behind  their  own.  An 
actress, — and  lift  this  dear  family;  as,  if  the 
daily  journals  only  could  be  believed,  such  and 
such  an  actress  has  been  able  to  do. 

"  Perhaps  I  may  yet,  if  I  do  not  get  a  school, 
now  that  I  am  here  in  the  city."  Bella  had 
allowed  the  little  flash  of  mental  excitement  to 
command  her  tongue. 

"May  what,  sister?"  asked  Nora,  quickly,  for 
the  sisters  were  confidantes.  Many  and  many  a 
night  had  the  gentle  Nora  lain,  wakeful  for  ar- 
gument and  dissuasion,  under  the  gabled  chamber 


30O  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


ceiling,  and  Bella  postured  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  high-wrought  and  magnificent,  answering  by 
superb  renderings  of  Shakespeare. 

"May  get  a  good  school,  of  course,  you  happy 
heart,"  laughed  Bella,  yet  she  gave  her  sister's 
hand  a  reproving  squeeze  under  the  lap-robe. 
It  said,  "  Do  n't  add  my  wicked  secret  to  their 
burden  of  mind!" — for  secret  it  was  to  the 
clergyman  and  his  wife. 

It  came  suddenly  back,  and  to  stay,  however, 
—  this  secret  thought  of  many  days.  Bella 
Havens  found  herself  climbing  out  of  this  living 
social  grave,  into  which  the  family  were  swiftly 
descending  with  every  roll  of  the  lumbering 
carriage-wheels, — climbing  up  again  into  the  soft 
sunlight  of  ease,  comforts,  and  wealth,  on  the 
visionary  ladder  of  histrionic  fame. 

They  say  it  is  not  strange  that  a  minister's 
son  is  a  born  public  speaker.  Why  should  not 
the  law  of  heredity  assert  itself  in  the  daughters  ? 
But  of  course  they  may  not  preach. 

"  What  a  magnificent  creature  she  is  growing 
to  be!"  thought  Nora,  as  she  sat,  also  silent. 
"She  has  just  the  commanding  personal  pres- 
ence, the  superb  health  and  physical  courage,  the 
constantly-increasing  beauty  of  features,  strangely 
increasing,  too,  of  late,  and  like  what  our  mother 


BURIED  IN  A   GREAT  CITY.  3OI 

once  was,  no  doubt.  She  has  voice,  grace,  gen- 
ius, and  high  intelligence ;  and  she  could  endure, 
as  an  actress  must,  I  am  sure,  such  a  slavery  to 
toil !  Oh,  God !  why  was  not  my  sister  called  of 
heaven  to  go  to  distant  lands  for  thec  ?  To  go 
where  she  could  live,  and  where  I  shall  die  ? " 

"Here  we  touch  bottom,  papa,  dear!"  cried 
Bella,  as  the  vehicle  halted.  She  descended  first 
to  the  walk.  She  put  her  two  strong  arms  so 
stoutly  about  the  trembling  man.  She  could  not 
resist  the  opportunity,  as  he  bent  forward,  to 
draw  his  dear  white  head  close  to  her  breast  and 
kiss  him  in  a  very  rapture  of  compassion,  love, 
and  secret  hope.  Her  caressing  tenderness  and 
her  strangely  cheerful  tones  took  away  the  sting 
of  the  complaint  in  her  words.  "  All  the  rest 
of  the  journey  is  upward,  papa,"  she  added,  as 
he  got  his  feet  to  the  earth  also. 

It  is  a  low  one  story  and  a  half  cottage 
house,  of  wood,  decent  and  small,  among  scattered 
scores  of  small,  unpretentious  dwellings,  such 
as  fringe  the  outskirts  of  all  great  cities.  Me- 
chanics of  uncertain  wages  and  certain  large 
families  of  children,  manual  laborers,  the  employes 
of  the  adjacent  horse-car  stables,  are  their 
neighbors.  It  is  better,  far,  than  the  six-story 
tenement  house  in  the  city's  heart.  They  will 


302  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

find  these  neighbors  orderly  people,  after  their 
own  notion  of  order.  In  the  morning  the  head 
hostler  at  the  stables,  a  respectable  colored  man, 
will  come  from  the  door  opposite.  From  the 
next  door  will  issue  a  bank  president  of  ten 
years  ago,  who  has  incipient  softening  of  the 
brain,  which  brought  on  a  hardening  of  his  lot. 
He  can  shop  for  poor  groceries,  however,  while 
his  daughter  runs  the  sewing  machine  and  the 
family.  The  physician  of  the  neighborhood  came 
out  here  from  Beacon  Street.  Rum  did  it. 
Even  now  Beacon  Street  can  not  quite  surrender 
him  ;  hence  his  is  the  best  house  here.  His 
drug  store  is  profitable  because  of  the  swamps, 
which  the  tide  uncovers  all  about  here  twice 
each  day.  Friendly  swamps,  that  defend  the 
colony  from  real  estate  speculators  —  and  open 
the  door  of  home  to  the  weary.  Home?  Not 
of  earth,  but  beyond.  Scribblers,  widows,  an 
army  of  people  whose  weapon  is  the  needle, 
other  broken-down  clergymen,  and  widows  of 
missionaries ;  a  philanthropist  on  yonder  corner, 
to  hear  whom,  defending  "  Liberty  without  color," 
distant  Music  Hall  once  on  a  time  stifled  itself, 
all  packed  with  silk  and  satin,  and  wept  through 
its  little  lace  handkerchiefs,  listening  to  the  foolish 
man,  till  it  wished  it  had  been  more  sensible 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY.  303 

and  brought  real  handkerchiefs  that  could  save 
gloves  from  spotting.  A  most  interesting  colony, 
if  one  could  only  come  to  know  his  neighbor, 
but  very  reticent  people ;  names,  several  of  them, 
in  the  newspapers,  large  type,  twenty  years  ago. 

Very  reticent,  very  secret,  shy  people,  as  Nora 
meets  them  at  the  corner  grocery,  where  she 
buys  kindling  wood  at  so  much  a  pound,  a  few 
minutes  later.  "  By  the  pound  ?  Chips  ?  " 

"Yes,  you  coundry  gal.  Chips  is  chips  mit 
cicly  peobles  ! " 

Very  select  people,  finely  chiseled  faces,  fringed 
with  white  whiskers,  with  airs  of  refinement,  yet 
so  broken-spirited  and  shy,  as  Bella  meets  them 
at  the  meat  market  on  the  other  corner, 
hesitating  over  the  cut-out  of  the  bone. 

"  More  bone ;  cut  it  off !  Do  n't  make  me  pay 
for  so  much  bone!" 

But  Bella  is  in  haste.  There  must  be  a 
prompt  supper ;  it  is  time.  And,  besides,  there 
is  a  great  hope  hastening  her  steps.  It  is  not 
intended  to  come  many  times  to  this  shop.  Ah, 
thank  God  for  the  hope  of  youth  ! 

"She's    a   daisy!" 

"Good   evening,    my  loss." 

Not  so  shy  and  reticent  people,  after  all,  on 
the  street  beyond  the  light  of  the  market  gas- 


304  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

jets,  when  one  has  not  yet  come  to  the  next 
rare  street-light,  Miss  Bella !  The  young  girl  turns 
herself  with  a  rural  cringing,  felt  in  every  fiber 
of  her  frame,  and  a  rural  blush  mantling  to  the 
tips  of  the  insulted  ears.  She  turns  to  look 
back  of  the  two  lounging  vagabonds,  and  send 
her  voice  where  her  eyes  have  failed,  crying,  — 

"  Nora  !     Nora  !  " 

From  the  other  side  of  the  street  her  sister 
answers,  however ;  and  quickly  joining  forces,  as 
it  were,  the  two  girls  fly  along  the  mired  side- 
walk with  their  bundles. 

"We  do  well  to  learn  quickly,"  gasped  out 
Nora,  "  that  these  are  not  the  village  paths." 

"And  yet,"  exclaims  Bella,  motioning  her 
sister  in  at  the  gate  before  her,  and  turning 
like  a  lioness,  "  I  imagine  that  we  have  to  learn 
to  defend  ourselves  upon  the  street.  The  vulgar, 
drunken  creatures ! "  There  was,  no  doubt,  in 
that  splendid  form  a  vigor  of  defense,  thanks 
to  the  ozone  of  the  hills,  that  would  have 
availed  against  the  sodden  muscles  of  the  bar- 
room-fed creatures,  whom  she  had  and  will  have 
often  to  meet.  Then,  too,  after  a  time  the  lady- 
like attire  of  neatness  may  change  to  resem- 
ble the  cheap  garb  of  servant  girls;  who  by  the 
way,  reader,  may  come  and  go  with  impunity, 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY.  3°5 

through     midnight    city-streets    on     their    "Thurs- 
days  out." 

"  I  think  none  but  a  clergyman's  family  could 
set  up  housekeeping  as  quickly  as  this,"  said 
Nora,  as  she  excavated  a  few  cooking  utensils 
and  plates  from  the  one  trunk  that  had  acccom- 
panied  them. 

"A  coal  fire,  papa.  Have  you,  indeed,  man 
aged  to  kindle  one  ? "  laughed  Bella. 

"  Yes.  It  reminds  me  of  college  days,"  replied 
he  cheerily,  poking  at  the  stove.  He  half  sat 
on  the  edge  of  one  chair,  which  some  former 
tenant  had  left  standing  in  the  center  of  the 
bare  floor.  "We  always  burned  coal  at  New 
Haven,  as  long  ago  as  when  I  was  there." 

Mrs.  Havens,  who  had  sat  almost  motionless 
with  fatigue  in  the  other  chair,  since  the  family 
moved  in  an  hour  ago,  could  not  quite  keep 
back  the  tears. 

"Dear  mamma!"  cried  Bella,  catching  sight 
of  the  very  first  tear,  for  which  she  had  been 
watching.  With  arms  about  the  fond  neck,  she 
said,  "We  ought  to  have  gone  to  a  hotel  at  first! 
I  'm  sure  one  of  Paul's  letters  was  lost.  This 
certainly  is  no  'furnished  house.'  But,  mamma, 
dear,  do  please  smile.  Within  an  hour  the 
other  trunks  must  be  here  surely.  Then  to- 


306  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

morrow  our  own  goods  will  arrive.  Oh,  we  '11 
change  all  this  !  " 

The  gleam  in  her  fine  eyes  as  she  straight- 
ened to  her  feet  before  her  mother,  with  fingers 
interlaced  and  arms  stretched  down,  with  face 
turned  towards  the  staring,  uncurtained  windows, 
out  into  the  night  !  It  took  a  moment  or  two 
for  recovery,  and  recall  from  her  desperate  high 
hopes  back  to  the  household  duties.  But  she 
went  about  the  duties  with  the  others  helping, 
very  slowly. 

Yet,  two  hours  later,  on  the  improvised  bed 
at  her  sleeping  sister's  side,  and  far  into  the 
night,  this  girl  was  climbing  out  of  the  grave. 

On  the  weary  and  sore  morning,  as  the  house- 
hold goods  were  being  marshaled  into  place, 
she  was  still  climbing  her  ladder.  The  cheerful- 
ness which  father  and  mother  misinterpreted  her 
sister  did  not  mistake,  but  wept  over,  in  secret 
little  retreats  to  pray.  Days  of  sultry  June,  so 
terrible  to  these  caged  country  birds,  yet  days 
on  days  of  exalted  hope  to  Bella  Havens  at 
least. 

Nor  was  her  resolution  taken  unintelligently, 
so  far  as  either  conscience  or  work  was  con- 
cerned. Is  it  right  ?  She  thought  she  settled  by 
one  constant  gaze  into  the  miserable  home  which 


BURIED  IN  A   GREAT  CITY.  3°7 


sheltered  her  parents.  Is  it  possible  ?  She  decided 
by  such  patient  study  of  histrionic  biography  as 
the  great  libraries  afforded  a  resolute  woman  who 
could  read  five  or  six  languages  as  readily  as 
her  native  English  ;  and  by  the  most  discrimi- 
nating scrutiny  of  herself.  This  narrative  is  not 
pronouncing  a  judgment  in  casuistry:  it  is 
simply  recording  facts  concerning  a  country  cler- 
gyman's daughter,  facts  of  which  the  author  has 
full  possession. 

Bella  Havens  was  absent  most  of  the  daylight 
hours,  down  in  the  city.  No  doubt  she  was 
looking  for  work.  That  she  was  in  the  libraries 
was  not  known  at  home ;  why  should  it  be  ? 
Why  should  they  question  one  who  had  poured 
in  the  school-mistress'  earnings  to  the  general 
treasury,  uncounted  all  ? 

The  family  mind,  moreover,  was  about  as  near 
full  these  days,  by  three  thoughts,  as  as  it  well 
could  be.  Thought  first: — Our  lonely,  new  life, 
which  may  God  make  us  able  to  endure  thank- 
fully. Thought  second: — The  twenty-fifth  day  of 
July,  on  which  Nora  is  to  marry  Steve  Crane 
and  take  ship  for  Cape  Town  with  the  evening 
tide.  Thought  third  :  —  Paul  will  return,  will 
graduate,  will  begin  his  work  with  us.  When  ? 
There  was  little  room  for  another  thought,  — 


308  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


what  will  Bella  do  ?  Especially,  as  the  shrewd  girl 
did  her  best  to  keep  it  out  of  every  body's 
mind,  and  sought  no  sympathy. 

One  day  as  she  was  descending  the  steps  of 
the  Public  Library,  Bella  saw  a  lady  stepping 
down  from  her  carriage  at  the  block. 

"Why,    Bella   Havens!" 

"  Good   evening,    Miss    Norcross." 

"  Please    say   Puss,"    kissing   her. 

"You  are  certainly  very  kind."  And,  indeed, 
she  felt  it,  nor  was  there  really  any  reason  why 
she  should  decline  this  wealthy  lady's  overtures. 
She  was  conscious  of  purer  blood  in  her  bloom- 
ing cheeks  —  Puss  looked  white  and  winter-killed; 
conscious  of  as  fine  a  stature,  rounded  in  sym- 
metry —  Puss'  arms  were  very  thin,  that  early 
summer's  day  ;  conscious  of  power,  and  conscious 
of  attainments.  We  mention  these  things  be- 
cause, being  painfully  conscious  of  a  marked  dif- 
ference in  attire — Puss  was  graceful  and  airy  as 
a  summer  cloud,  in  her  afternoon  dress,  just 
stepping  from  the  home  library  to  the  public  one 
by  the  carriage,  for  a  newly  noticed  book  —  that 
poor  Bella  had  to  number  over  these  considera- 
tions, in  her  own  mind,  to  prop  her  halting 
pride. 

"We    have    absolutely    lost    sight    of    you    all," 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY,  3OQ 


Puss  went  on,  still  clinging  to  Bella's  hand.  "I 
have  so  many,  many  questions  to  ask.  Are  you 
here  in  town  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Your  family?  It  is  so  —  pardon  me.  I  have 
written  to  Cousin  Clara  asking  whither  you  had 
removed,  but  she,  poor  child,  did  not  know." 

"We  are  all  here,  except  my  brother."  But 
Bella  concluded  not  to  admit  an  intimacy  of 
commiseration  ;  she  would  not  say  where  nor 
how  the  family  were  buried ;  and  she  gave  the 
books  a  fresh  lodge  up  her  hip  as  she  stepped 
one  side. 

"  Please  share  my  carriage ! "  exclaimed  Puss, 
turning  promptly  about.  "  I  came  out  more  for 
the  going  somewhere  than  for  books.  I  will  take 
you  home.  You  know — I  greatly  esteem  your 
brother,  who  was  once  our  guest  ;  and  papa  is 
the  servant  of  all  clergymen." 

It  was  so  genuinely  kind.  And  the  girl  wore 
such  an  unhappy  face ;  though  she  got  a  little 
color  over  the  mention  of  Paul. 

"  I  will  ride  with  you,  Miss  Norcross,  as  far 
as  your  door.  I  go  up  Commonwealth  Avenue." 

Puss  was  a  lady,  reader ;  no,  a  good,  true 
woman,  is  the  better  word.  She  saw  it  all  at 
a  glance.  She  was  not  to  run  down  this  beau- 


3l°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


tiful  hare  to  find  out  its  den.  She  gave  the 
order,  and  slowly,  up  the  proud,  deserted 
thoroughfare,  the  horses  ambled. 

The  two  women  chatted  freely,  but  of  com- 
monplace things,  for  the  most  part.  There 
were  no  confidences,  this  time.  Bella  was  more 
at  ease  of  the  two,  but  perhaps  that  was  merely 
a  matter  of  health.  As  they  passed  a  certain 
eligible  corner,  which  we  have  seen  before, 
Bella  called  attention  -to  the  workmen  and  the 
fine  site ;  and  as  Puss,  in  the  kindness  of  her 
heart,  evidently  evaded  the  hint  that  her  ques- 
tioner had  let  drop,  Paul's  sister  jumped  to  a 
secret  conclusion,  "That  is  the  spot.  I  had 
already  picked  it  out,  as  I  have  been  walking 
past  it  these  weeks.  That  might  have  been  the 
boy's  home.  So  it  seems  Clara  is  going  on  with 
her  building.  I  wonder  who  will  share  it  with 
her?" 

"  Papa  tells  me  of  your  sister's  approaching 
marriage  with  his  favorite  young  missionary,  Mr. 
Crane.". 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  And  we  are  all  to  go  on  to  see  him  grad- 
uate. Papa  has  something  to  do  with  the 
college." 

"'It   is   next   week.     I   suppose   none  of  us   will 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY,  311 


go."  Then  determining  to  be  kind  she  paid  for 
her  ride  on  the  spot  by  adding,  "  We  expect 
rny  brother,  every  day,  now.  He  has  not  been 
very  well.  Florida  is  terrible  at  this  time  of 
year.  Yet  he  is  a  very  strong  man,  you  know." 

How  the  gray  eyes  beamed!  But  it  was  a 
very  natural  reply.  "  How  much  you  grow  to 
resemble  him  !  Why,  it  seems  almost  possible  to 
remark  it  since  last  spring.  It  is  as  close  a 
counterfeit  as  a  woman  could  ever  be  of  a  man  !  " 
The  gray  eyes  seemed  to  delight  themselves  in 
looking  on  this  female  Paul  Havens. 

To  turn  away  the  eager  glances,  if  for  no 
other  reason,  the  other  responded.  "Do  the  — 
that  is,  I  mean  Clara.  Is  she  to  meet  you  at 
Amherst  ? " 

"  I  really  do  not  know  about  coz.  I  did  not 
accompany  them  to  Washington.  They  are  quite 
gay,  considering  the  season,  I  believe.  Uncle 
Lem  is  —  what  do  the  gentlemen  call  it? — lob- 
bying ?  Aunt  and  Clara  have  entertained  consid- 
erably, I  believe,  to  help  him.  They  have  Sen- 
ator Takeit's  house,  the  senator's  wife  being  an 
invalid  .and  removed  to  the  quiet  of  the  Arling- 
ton. We  are  to  be  together  at  Saratoga,  in 
August,  I  think.  I  'm  expecting  a  letter  from 
the  poor  little  heart  every  day.  Here  we  are  at 


312  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

our  door.  Now,  do  please  come  in.  Ah, 
Andrew  ? " 

The  young  man  was  just  driving  to  the  curb 
in  his  single  buggy,  in  from  a  spin  on  the  Mill 
Dam.  Throwing  the  lines  to  his  groom,  he  came 
forward  to  answer  his  sister's  call,  when  sud- 
denly he  caught  sight  of  a  face  at  her  side. 
Honest,  dull,  money-worshiper  as  he  was,  and  with 
the  fear  of  his  uncle  constantly  before  his  eyes, 
yet  the  young  man  was  human  enough.  That 
face,  which  had  once  moved  him  even  to  the 
point  of  ignoring  the  penniless  condition  of  its 
owner  —  considering  that  her  brother  was  "booked 
for  partnership"  —that  face,  sublimely  beautiful 
and  glowing  with  high  resolves,  changed  from 
comely  to  something  mastering !  His  hat  was 
off  in  an  instant  to  this  princess  in  country 
cottons.  His  whip  got  under  his  foot,  and  he 
sprawled  a  trifle,  though  he  kicked  the  whip 
into  the  gutter  and  came  up  all  right. 

"  Allow  me,"  and  he  helped  the  two  ladies  to 
the  block  and  the  walk.  "I  —  I  was  sure  I 
saw  you  on  the  avenue,  a  week  ago,  Miss  Ha- 
vens." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  The  eyebrows  arched  at  him.  She 
kept  her  mastery  of  the  situation,  however, 
though  she  gave  him  her  hand  again  for  the 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY.  313 

slightest  courtesy's  sake,  and  then  turned  to  give 
it  into  a  longer  grasp  of  Miss  Norcross'  as  she 
said,  — 

"  No,  pray  excuse  me.  I  can  not  come  in.  I 
must  get  home  before  dark."  Then  the  books 
on  the  hip  and  arm  about  them.  She  was  on 
the  point  of  pursuing  her  walk. 

"  But  really,  Miss  Havens,"  Andrew  began 
blunderingly,  for  he  at  least  was  painfully  conscious 
of  his  abrupt  departure,  weeks  ago,  from  the  dis- 
tant parsonage-home  and  Crosston,  "you  will 
allow  us  to  —  to  call.  Where " 

"  My  dear  girl,"  Puss  cut  him  off  with,  in  her 
delicate  kindness,  "we  will  not  press  you  to- 
night ;  but  another  day,  we  shall  not  take  no 
for  an  answer.  Please,  now,  you  will  comply 
another  day  ?  Good-night." 

There  was  something  in  Puss'  deep  gaze  that 
said,  "  I  will  not  probe  your  secret ;  it  is  some- 
thing daring.  You  are  trying  to  do  some  great 
thing ;  you  will  need  a  friend ;  you  will  let  me 
be  your  friend." 

At  any  rate  that  is  what  Bella  Havens  thought 
she  read  in  those  eyes,  and  she  will  think  so 
for  many  a  day,  till  sometime  she  ventures  to 
prove  if  she  read  aright.  It  is  not  best  to  strike 
down  a  hand  outstretched  in  kindness.  No  one 


314  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

is  brave  enough  to  live  quite  alone.  Hence  she 
answers  sincerely,  — 

"Thank  you,  indeed;  I  certainly  would  like  to 
know  you  better.  Good  night.  Good  night,  Mr. 
Norcross." 

As  she  moves  off  up  the  avenue,  she  soon 
forgets  to  wish  that  she  had  eyes  in  her  back, 
for  she  is  absorbed  with  her  day's  reading  about 
her  art.  But  he  wishes  that  he  had  had  eyes 
in  his  face  weeks  ago,  to  see  her  as  she  is. 
He  does  the  next  best  thing,  follows  his  sister 
indoors,  of  course,  but,  thereafter,  promptly  across 
the  hall  to  the  library  window,  which  commanded 
the  broad  thoroughfare  southward  for  a  long  dis- 
tance. 

"You  are  too  late,  my  dear  boy,  as  usual," 
said  Puss,  observing  him  with  that  sisterly  ami- 
ability which  is  often  singularly  sinister. 

"  Thank  you,  Puss."  He  slowly  fingered  his 
mustache  as  he  gazed.  "Wouldn't  she  be  some- 
thing magnificent,  if  dressed !  "  Why  should  he 
not  dress  her  ?  Was  he  not  rich  enough  ?  Cer- 
tainly ;  that 's  not  the  point.  To  the  dogs  with 
Uncle  Lem  and  his  piques ! 

"I  tell  you,  you  are  too  dull  and  too  late, 
brother  of  mine,"  fanning  tantalizingly. 

"  How   so,   sis  ?    What   is   she   doing  here  ? " 


BURIED  IN  A    GREAT  CITY. 


"How   should    I   know?" 

"  You   do   know,    now  ;   come  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  wish  I  did,  bub,  but  I  do  n't.  Is 
she  out  of  sight  yet  ?  " 

After  looking  long  through  the  soft,  falling 
twilight  of  June,  that  enfolded  and  blended  the 
evening  promenaders,  he  added,  — 

"Out   of   sight;  buried." 

The  brother   smoked;   the   sister  fanned. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


XVII. 

LONG    BRANCH. 

T  T  7HAT  ?  Congress  has  adjourned,  before  we 
*  *  reach  the  capitol  ?  Here,  you  may  read 
for  yourself  in  the  morning  papers !  If  we  had 
only  been  less  absorbed  in  those  Boston  people, 
for  the  last  few  days,  we  should  have  doubt- 
less seen  premonitions  of  the  flight  of  the 
eagles  and  sparrows,  doves  and  vultures.  The 
weather  has  been  growing  insufferably  hot,  did 
we  but  know  it.  Now  seaside  and  mountains, 
springs  and  prairies,  for  the  noble  statesman  of 
Washington. 

Nevertheless,  this  history  was  perfectly  sincere 
in  its  promise  to  take  you  on  to  the  pure  and 
holy  capitol  of  this  land  of  equality.  Since  we 
can  not  do  that  and  keep  track  of  the  individu- 
als, a  slice  of  whose  earthly  life  we  are  trying 
to  cut  off  for  your  amusement  and  possible  in- 
struction,—  no  story  is  more  than  a  slice  off  the 
loaf  of  a  few  lives,  —  we  must  try  to  find  them 
where  they  are  to  be  found.  At  Long  Branch, 
it  happens,  for  Coney  Island  is  not  yet. 


LONG  BRANCH.  31/ 


On  the  veranda  of  the  Hon.  Magnus  Nevada's 
cottage  sits  he,  with  his  guests,  namely :  the 
Hon.  S.  L.  Y.  Takeit,  senator,  and  plain  Lem- 
uel Norcross,  whom  we  know.  It  is  the  calm  of 
Sabbath  afternoon.  The  morning  was  spent  in 
church,  in  a  most  Christian  manner.  It  is  a 
pretty  little  church,  a  sort  of  republican  court 
affair,  which  has  this  pleasant  feature  :  it  is  so 
small  that  the  reporters  for  the  great  New  York 
journals  have  no  difficulty  in  seeing  all  the  pious 
senators  and  devout  contractors  who,  with  very 
many  other  excellent  people,  bow  their  heads  there. 
Furthermore,  the  music  is  fine,  and  is  liable  to 
be  finer  —  if  the  court  does  not  fly  to  some  other 
resort  —  for,  no  doubt,  a  regimental  band  will 
erelong  be  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  congre- 
gation ;  or,  failing  that,  the  orchestral  performers 
from  the  hotels,  if  the  hops  do  not  detain  them 
too  late  on  Saturday  nights.  There  is,  as  yet, 
no  dream  of  Coney  Island,  with  its  brilliant  and 
spiritual  Sabbath  worship,  so  very  convenient,  in 
the  vast  hotels. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  veranda  sit  a  com- 
pany of  ladies  and  younger  gentlemen.  These  are 
wives,  daughters  and  sons  of  the  three  gentlemen 
whom  we  pointed  out  just  above.  These  are  the 
Scatterers.  The  three  are  the  Gatherers.  Does 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


it  take  so  many  ladies  and  young  men  to  scat- 
ter all  that  the  three  can  gather?  Indeed,  yes, 
for  the  Gatherers  have  combed  up  millions. 
Notice  Mrs.  Norcross,  Mrs.  Nevada,  Mrs.  Takeit, 
and  the  young  misses  and  sirs  of  these  names, 
with  a  neighbor  or  two,  not  quite  too  numerous, 
but  not  worth  our  while  to  mention.  Note  Clara 
Norcross  and  Mr.  Nevada,  Jr.,  who  are  interest- 
ing to  us,  as,  on  casual  observation,  you  might 
judge  they  were  to  each  other. 

Now,  then,  at  the  other  end  of  the  veranda. 
It  being  after  dinner,  and  one  cigar  being  his 
physician's  allowance  of  late,  the  Hon.  S.  L.  Y. 
Takeit  has  dropped  off,  as  his  cigar  ashes  scat- 
tered on  his  broad-cloth  testify,  into  soothing 
forgetful  ness  of  all  earthly  cares.  That  fact  leaves 
the  other  two  Gatherers  free  to  lay  their  heads 
together  and  mingle  fresh  smoke.  For  that  mat- 
ter, it  would  hardly  have  seemed  offensive  had 
it  been  openly  suggested  to  Takeit  that  "he 
might  go  to  sleep  if  he  wished,  as  they  wished 
to  talk,"  and  he  would  have  trustfully  clone  so, 
with  his  fat,  soft  palm  fallen  significantly  open 
in  his  lap,  after  the  Takeit  fashion  for  genera- 
tions, the  great  and  good  man  ! 

"  Well,  Norcross,  you  ought  to  be  happy  with  the 
way  we've  fixed  the  tariff  for  you."  This  Nevada. 


LONG  BRANCH.  3!9 


"  Yes,  it  tides  me  over  this  time.  But  that 
domestic  affair  now  recurs  to  distress  me.  The 
dear  girl's  heart  is  set,  old  friend.  And  you,  a 
Yankee  born  yourself,  and  Yank  yet,  though  you 
are  a  western  silver  king  now,  you  know  how 
a  Yankee  girl  hangs  on  to  a  love,  as  any  other 
idea  she  strikes!"  Norcross  brushes  ashes  off 
his  business-garb ;  he  never  changes  to  Sunday 
clothes. 

"  Then  you  despair  of  my  young  man's  suit  ? " 
replied  Nevada,  with  a  hard  little  laugh,  meant 
both  to  hide  his  own  pique  and  to  apologize  for 
indulging  in  the  love  intrigues  of  young  people, 
—  this  man  of  vast  affairs.  And  yet  there  was 
a  side  to  the  question,  not  even  beneath  his 
dignity.  "  It  would  bunch  up  a  splendid  for- 
tune for  the  young  simpletons, — yours  joined 
to  mine." 

"Mine!"  with  an  unwordable  inflection  of 
doubt  and  irony.  "  S  'pose  they  lift  the  tariff 
next  year  ? " 

"  Why,  Lem,  what  ails  you  ?  Ain't  my  loan 
big  'nuf  ? "  The  huge  fellow  "  never  went  back 
on  a  friend."  "  Confound  'em,  takin'  off  the 
tariff !  I  'd  like  to  see  'em  try  it  where  a 
friend  o'  mine's  concerned ! "  Here  he  excitedly 
threw  away  the  cigar  and  filled  up  with  a  tre- 


320  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

mendous  quid  of  fine-cut.  You  might  have  no- 
ticed how  near  a  ton  the  box  must  have  weighed, 
solid  silver,  with  a  diamond  in  its  center  "to  light 
it  up,"  as  they  had  suggested  at  Tiffany's ;  his 
wife  agreed  that  it  needed  "lighting  up,"  and 
so  ordered  a  "few  diamonds  sprinkled  on." 

"  That 's  all  right.  I  shall  swing  it  somehow," 
compressing  those  iron  lips.  "As  the  minister 
said  to-day,  all  things  work  together  for  good " 

"Now,  old  friend,  — "  and  Nevada's  smile  was 
full  of  pity  as  he  put  his  hand  on  Norcross' 
knee.  "That's  the  only  streak  in  you  that  gives 
me  uneasiness.  I  tell  ye,  ye  can't  do  it.  Be 
a  man  and  done  with  it,  or  be  a  pious  canter 
like  your  brother  Bill  and  done  with  it.  This 
feller,  Havens,  why,  get  him  a  chance  on  some 
foreign  squadron  for  a  three  years'  cruise.  I 
can  fix  that  with  the  President.  The  boy  '11 
see  lots  o'  pretty  faces  in  that  time.  And 
't  would  be  doin'  him  a  good  turn." 

"But  he  is  only  in  the  service  temporarily. 
He 's  going  to  be  a  minister." 

With  a  droll  surprise,  Nevada  turned  square 
round.  "A  clergyman, — eh?"  And  then  taking 
some  time  to  digest  it,"  "  She 's  that  sort  of 
a  young  lady, — eh?"  which  was  evidently  the 
most  serious  aspect  of  the  case. 


LONG  BRANCH.  32 1 


"Why,  no,"  Mr.  Norcross  hastened  to  put  in. 
"You  can't  tell  much  'bout  a  young  -girl's  real 
bent  of  character  by  that." 

"No,  I  s'pose  not,"  resumed  Mr.  Nevada, 
after  pondering  some  time  in  silence.  "  I  con- 
fess, to  you,  Lem,  that  girls  and  clergymen 
ain't  very  plain  to  me.  But,"  suddenly  lighting 
up  with  resolution,  "  though  I  'm  no  churchman, 
yet,  in  politics,  now,  there 's  influence.  S'pose 
you  give  a  thousand  dollars  or  two  to  some 
church  debt,  or  to  endow  some  school.  Would  n't 
that  give  you  influence  to  prevent  the  boy's 
bein'  settled  hereabouts  ? "  He  dropped  his 
chair  to  all  fours,  and  grasped  Norcross'  knee. 
In  a  moment  more,  "  Why,  see  here,  old 
feller !  We  want  ministers  out  'n  the  mines.  I  '11 
—  I  '11  build  him  a  church  out  there,  and  settle 
him  on  the  frontier.  Capital  !  Why,  man,  influ- 
ence will  do  any  thing,  —  hey?"  And  he  shook 
the  Norcross  knee,  as  he  shook  his  sides  laughing. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  I  understand  all  that.  I  've 
fixed  him  now,  already,  so  far  as  our  state  is 
concerned.  But  my  daughter  herself,  now  ? " 

"Yes,  —  the  princess  herself,"  echoed  Nevada, 
less  confidently,  and  tipping  back  his  chair  again. 
"Well,  I  don't  know  'bout  women.  But  you're 
sure  you  yourself  fancy  my  Joe  ? " 


322  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 

"  He 's  all  business,  and  suits  to  a  dot ! "  was 
the  quick  reply. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  the  proud  father,  now  with 
free  tongue  again.  "  Likes  money  just  as  well  as 
if  he  had  n't  a  cent.  Never  drinks ;  college 
educated ;  traveled  in  Europe,  where  he  was  all 
business,  even  on  a  pleasure  trip;  fine  lookin'. 
There  ain't  many  boys  like  my  Joe,  old  friend! 
if  I  do  say  it.  Joseph's  one  ambition  in  life  is 
to  make  lots  of  money.  Whew !  What  a  pile 
he  '11  have,  with  what  I  leave  him,  if  he  keeps 
on !  Any  girl  might  be  well  proud  of  catchin' 
Joe  Nevada ! "  With '  that  he  was  so  heavenly 
minded,  that  taking  aim  by  a  diamond  on  his 
little  finger,  which  he  first  raised  and  sighted 
over  in  the  flashing,  summer  sun  he  fired,  I 
do  believe,  at  the  whole  Atlantic,  sleeping  yon- 
der, though  he  hit  a  bridal  rose  on  the  lawn 
and  discolored  it.  Then  he  added,  "The  only 
p'int  with  Joe  is,  he  dislikes  the  West.  Want's  to 
figger  in  an  Eastern  city.  That 's  the  blamed  r'sult 
of  his  Harvard.  Likes  Boston.  So  I  'm  helpin" 
him  on,  Lem.  You  are  my  old  friend,  and  " 

"Oh,  I  understand.  We  must  put  it  through 
somehow ;  that 's  all.  Only,  I  Ve  always  in- 
dulged Clara  so  much,  till  lately,  and  she  is  so 
mighty  lovely  and  sweet  when  I  attempt  to  put 


LONG  BRANCH.  323 


on  the  screws,  that  it  comes  tremendous  hard 
for  me." 

"  I  s'pose,"  was  Nevada's  final  remark  to 
close  the  subject.  "But  leave  'em  together, 
man,  leave  'em  together."  Then  suddenly  looking 
across  the  lawns,  "Ah!"  His  broad  face  lighted 
up  with  a  glow.  "There  comes  the  President, — 
told  me  he  'd  be  over  for  a  walk.  Wake  up, 
Takeit,  and  let 's  go  down  on  the  beach."  He 
arose,  yawning  and  stretching,  thrusting  out  his 
fists  from  the  shoulders.  Few  cares  could  sit 
long  on  his  broad  breast. 

Takeit  was  roused  and  accompanied  them. 
The  President  seemed  so  happy,  and  felt  so 
secure  as  they  shortly  walked  four  abreast.  The 
President  was  in  good  hands.  Great  and  good 
men  were  supporting  him ;  one  with  Western 
millions,  one  with  Eastern  millions, — as  it  was 
supposed,  —  and  one  to  whom  the  location  of 
the  millions  was  of  no  account,  so  long  as 
there  were  millions.  Happy  President  of  a  great 
Christian  country,  whose  "  bone  and  sinew,"  the 
millions  of  the  common  people,  commit  him  to 
God's  care,  night  and  morn,  in  the  same  prayer 
that  asks  a  blessing  on  their  babes. 

Joe  Nevada,  half  sitting  at  perfect  ease  upon 
the  veranda  railing,  confronting  Clara  Norcross, 


324  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

who,  if  you  observed,  never  looked  sweeter  than 
this  moment,  all  in  white  and  airy  elegance. 
Joe  is  tall,  is  of  splendid  physique,  is  perfectly 
dressed,  and  not  aware  of  it ;  is  dark-eyed,  clean- 
shaved,  strong-featured,  and  altogether  the  calm, 
self-possessed  man  of  the  world. 

"  He  is  as  fine-looking  as  Paul  Havens," 
thought  Clara.  "  He  is  as  intelligent,  as  gentle- 
manly. The  features  are  not  unlike,  —  a  striking 
resemblance  which  grows  upon  me,  —  only  this 
is  Paul  Havens  with  a  different  soul.  To  be 
sure,  his  face  brightens  to  me,  because,  no  doubt, 
he  thinks  he  has  an  interest  in  me.  But 
when  I  see  him  turning  away,  as  this  moment, 
to  watch  his  shrewd  father,  arm  in  arm  with  the 
President  of  the  country  for  instance,  how  cold 
and  business-like  is  his  face ! " 

Fanning,  gazing  past  him  over  the  southward- 
stretching  ocean,  following  dreamily  the  ribbon  of 
smoke  that  lay  against  the  sky  above  some 
passing  steamer  northward  bound,  and  wondering 
who  might  be  walking  the  deck, — for  it  is  nearly 
Commencement  Day, — planning  how  she  might 
beguile  her  father  to  hasten  on  to  Boston,  the 
old,  hopeless  problem  of  many  days  now ;  but 
Boston  is  not  Amherst,  and  "to-morrow,"  so 
Puss'  letter  said,  "we  go  up  there."  Ah,  Puss, 


LONG  BRANCH.  325 


what  a  sorrow  you  are  laying  up  for  yourself ! 
Or,  perhaps,  you  are  too  able  a  woman  for  poor 
me  to  cope  with. 

Thinking  on  these  themes,  you  may  judge 
how  slow  the  conversation  was.  Joe  Nevada  was 
forced  to  help  it  along  almost  violently  over 
many  a  pause.  Pitying  him  suddenly,  she  stopped 
fanning,  and  said,  — 

"I  fear  from  your  last  remark,  Mr.  Nevada, 
that  you  do  not  esteem  artists  as  very  useful 
members  of  society." 

"On  the  contrary,  Miss  Norcross,  I  gave  Dor6 
an  order  for  a  single  design  that  cost  us  — 
father  and  me  —  a  thousand  dollars.  He  was 
very  grateful  at  once,  and  most  deferential." 

"  Wonderful  Dore !  Do  you  know,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  little  flash  of  genuine  interest, 
"  I  could  never  yet  bring  myself  to  even  look 
through  his  Dante  ? " 

"  It  is  indeed  sublimely  terrible.  Yet,  I  must 
confess  to  greatly  enjoying  it.  I  saw  his  original 
sketches." 

"  How  could  a  man,"  with  a  woman's  emphasis 
on  the  could,  "ever  bring  himself  to  sweet  sleep 
after  entertaining  such  pictures  in  his  creative 
dreams  ?" 

He   laughed   coldly,   and    responded,    "Ah,   poor 


326  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Dore,  killing  himself !  But  he  makes  money ;  for 
money,  you  know,  a  man  can  endure  almost  — 
well,  that  INFERNO  now ;  I  suppose  he  received 
for  that " 

"  Pray  do  n't  tell  me  ! "  exclaimed  Clara  ;  "  for 
if  I  knew,  it  might  make  the  study  of  the  vol- 
ume possible  for  me.  You  know  you  could 
manage  to  keep  thinking  about  the  vulgar  wages, 
and  so  be  betrayed  into  getting  the  pictures 
into  your  mind,  to  haunt  your  dreams." 

Joe  Nevada's  frank  features  made  no  disguise 
possible,  and  he  cared  for  none.  There  was 
something  almost  engaging  in  the  way  he  con- 
fessed part  of  his  thought. 

"  Vulgar  wages,  you  child  of  luxury !  But 
then,  we  men  expect  that  of  women.  Indeed, 
it 's  pretty.  By  the  way,  you  are  about  building 
a  town  residence  of  some  magnificence,  we  all 
hear;  please  do  tell  me  about  it." 

"Yes;  but  tell  me:  You  had  fine  introductions 
abroad."  She  was  determined  not  to  have  any 
confidences. 

"  I  did ;  the  very  best,"  he  answered,  yielding 
good-naturedly ;  "  commissions.  No  letters  are  to 
be  compared  with  orders  for  work,  you  know." 

"  I  do  n't  like  to  think  of  these  famous  people 
in  that  light,"  almost  pouting.  "Think  of  our 


LONG  BRANCH  327 


own  Powers,  Bonheur,  and  — "  She  was  going 
on  to  mention  many  names  famous  in  art  and 
song,  thinking  he  might  really  interest  her ;  but 
the  half-quizzing,  half- pitying  cast  of  his  features 
made  her  indignant,  —  for  the  thousandth  time, 
you  may  know,  in  the  last  month, — and  her 
eyes  left  him,  flashing  once,  and  then  bending 
dreamily  on  the  sea. 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Norcross,"  he  made  haste 
to  say,  getting  off  the  railing  and  into  line  of 
her  gaze,  by  sitting  on  the  steps  at  her  very 
feet ;  "  but  really,  now,  I  appreciate  all  your 
enthusiasm.  I,  too,  have  built  all  the  shrines 
that  any  school-boy  ever  did,  and  afterwards  had 
devotion  enough  to  go  visit  my  shrines  all  over 
the  world — except,  of  course,  religious,  holy 
places.  I  speak  of  no  names,  but  I  tell  you  the 
hard  truth  :  I  have  yet  to  see  the  genius  who 
did  n't  want  a  little  silver !  I  have  yet  to  see 
the  great  man  who  had  nothing  to  sell.  Pro- 
vided he  is  gentlemanly  in  address,  the  rich 
man's  card  is  always  honored  first  in  any  ante- 
room of  statesman,  literateur,  scientist,  songstress, 
painter,  sculptor,  or  philanthropist,  of  this  funny 
world.  Really,  now,  I  know  and  am  sorry,  for 
your  sake,  if  it  pains  you,  that  I  know  it. 
Now,  do  not  look  down  so  scornfully  on  poor, 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


unlucky  me  !  It  is  these  people  themselves  who 
are  to  blame  for  the  —  the  mercenary  manners 
which  I  'm  not  the  first  idol-worshiper  to  be 
disenchanted  by,  I  'm  sure.  Why,  who  brought 
Jenny  Lind  to  this  country  ?  A  showman  !  " 

"I'll  never  forgive  you  for  that  speech!"  The 
tiny  shoe  patted  the  sounding  piazza. 

"  Yes,  you  will,"  he  replied  quickly,  and  flush- 
ing a  little.  "  It  is  an  honest  speech  ;  at  least, 
Miss  Norcross,  you  respect  frankness,  now  ob- 
serve," and  he  spread  out  his  fingers  on  one 
hand,  while  with  the  tip  of  his  plain  walking- 
stick  he  commercially  counted  off  the  reasons 
why  she  would  pardon  him.  "  Look  at  all  the 
fellows  that  you  can  see  this  instant,  over  my 
shoulder,  rolling  by  in  drags  and  with  tandems. 
I  know  these  men  about  town,  every  one. 
There  's  Billy  Kates,  I  presume,  in  sight  :  he 
tells  me  of  his  dogs.  There  's  Sam  Dowkie  ;  he 
spends  his  money  for  horses  and  coaches.  Per- 
haps you  can  see  —  but  I'll  not  name  the  men 
who  bet,  who  control  clubs,  who  run  cattle  farms 
for  thousands  a  year.  Now,  please  do  not  forbid 
me  to  justify  myself  in  your  eyes.  I  really  would 
like  to  use  money  quite  differently  ;  to  patronize 
genius,  for  instance  ;  to  be  able  to  almost  command 
a  great  painter;  to  hold  up  the  finger,  and  a  fa- 


LONG  BRANCH.  329 


mous  writer  would  run  to  see  what  you  wanted, 
or  a  college  professor,  or  a  senator,  or  a  presi- 
dent, would  respond,  '  My  patron,  I  love  you ! ' 
Is  n't  that  a  refined  ambition  ? "  He  pressed  the 
cane  hilt  firmly  against  his  clean  lips,  and  gazed, 
straight  as  an  arrow,  up  into  her  eyes.  Never 
before  had  he  spoken  as  much  concerning  him- 
self, nor  seemed  in  such  earnest. 

Clara  could  not  disregard  those  serious  eyes ; 
no,  though  the  flashing  sea  flashed  brighter  than 
it  had  all  day,  in  the  freshening  breeze,  and  its 
whispers  now  were  hoarser,  telling  wind-borne  tales 
of  the  South.  She  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  '  Yes. 
That  's  preferable  to  some  ways  of  spending  such 
vast  revenues  as  yours." 

"You  approve,  then?"  It  came  quick  as  light- 
ning. He  bent  suddenly  forward,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  floor  at  her  very  feet. 

"What,  sir?"  startled,  and  attempting  to  fan  again. 

"  Miss  Norcross  —  Clara,  you  can  not  need  an 
explanation,  after  these  weeks  that  we  have  passed 
in  each  other's  society." 

She  was  standing,  instantly  ;  her  pretty  face 
aglow,  as  she  arched  her  neck  to  discover  that 
they  were  alone ;  the  rest  of  the  party  were  just 
disappearing  behind  the  ivy-fluted  pillars  at  her  back. 

"We     are     quite     by    ours.elves,    most    gracious 


33°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


lady,"  he  said.  "  Forgive  me  that  I  watched  for 
my  chance.  And  now  ?  " 

He  attempted  to  seize  her  hand.  But  she 
employed  one  in  brushing  back  the  rich  Grecian 
bands  of  her  hair  which  the  sea-winds  troubled, 
and  the  other  with  her  skirts,  in  that  pluming- 
for-flight  sort  of  movement.  Her  natural  color 
was  now  paling  and  returning  with  incomparable 
beauty  before  his  eyes.  But  her  lips  seemed  to 
manage  nothing.  Not  one  of  the  conclusive  little 
speeches  that  she  had  arranged  and  rearranged 
many  times  in  preparation  was  available.  Which 
was  not  strange,  the  innocent  ! 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  go,"  he  exclaimed,  all  fer- 
vor and  fear,  you  would  have  said.  "  Though, 
should  you  be  so  cruel,  I  will  stand  out  of  the 
way  of  your  flight,"  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word.  "  Yet,  listen  to  the  suit  of  one  who  has, 
at  least,  laid  at  your  feet  not  only  the  fortunes 
of  a  gentleman  —  I  trust  I  have  shown  myself 
such  —  but,  I  may  add,  the  heart  of  an  honest 
man.  At  least,  an  honest  man,  Miss  Norcross ; 
I  disguise  nothing;  hear  me.  If  I  can  not  prattle 
of  love  like  some  simple  swain,  I  can,  at  least, 
serve  you  as  if  you  were  a  queen.  I  can  make 
your  home  the  most  brilliant  social  center  in  all 
this  republican  land.  You  shall  have  your  own 


LONG  BRANCH.  33 l 


way,  as  no  woman  in  America  ever  yet  had. 
All  the  kindness  that  many  men  waste  on  their 
fellow-men  —  and  small  thanks  for  it!  —  I  will  re- 
serve for  you,  and  you  alone.  I  will  be  selfish 
towards  the  whole  world,  that  I  may  be  unselfish 
towards  you.  I  will  carefully  keep  every  gentle, 
loving  impulse  of  my  nature  —  and  every  man  is 
born  with  some  such  store,  I  venture  to  hope  — 
keep  it  with  strict  economy,  from  every  living  hu- 
man being,  that  I  may  give  all  to  you,  my  wife ! " 

All  the  woman  in  her  came  to  the  rescue  and 
defense  of  this  young  girl  now.  Her  second 
thought  was  not  of  flight ;  she  knew  how  free 
she  was ;  her  second  thought  was  of  the  real 
Paul  Havens,  of  whom  this  was  the  counterfeit ; 
the  real  Paul,  who,  for  the  love  he  bore  all  men, 
had  seemed  to  put  her  aside. 

And  the  woman  in  her  chose  even  the  mem- 
ory of  that  unselfish  love,  as  she  once  knew  it 
and  hoped  it  yet  was,  before  this  selfish  one. 
Would  you  ?  She  said,  — 

"  Mr.  Nevada,  it  may  not  be  becoming  in  a 
young  lady  to  stand  in  seeming  consultation  over 
such  a  theme—  Then  she  wondered  at  herself, 
that  she  had  been  able  to  command  so  dignified 
a  sentence,  and  promptly  dropped  it,  fairly  ex- 
claiming in  maidenly  fervor,  — 


332  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"Do  you  dream,  sir,  that  love  can  be  stored 
up  like  —  like  honey?"  A  bee  was  buzzing  at 
the  ivy  before  her  eyes  and  helped  her. 

"  Why  not  ?  It  is  a  world  whose  first  law  is 
economy.  I  '11  love  and  live  only  for  you  ! 
Though  I  confess,  you  superb  woman,  that  I 
never  before  felt  how  little  that  was  to  offer ! " 

The  shadowy  shape  of  Paul  Havens  was  so 
clear,  like  a  spectre,  just  at  this  man's  back, 
that  she  almost  exclaimed  his  name.  Her  red 
lips  parted  ;  her  eyes  dilated  ;  she  was  hardly  re- 
sponsible for  what  she  said,  as  in  reply  she 
murmured,  — 

"  And  do  you  think  that  women  —  that  I  — 
care  to  be  loved  in  that  way  ? " 

"Are  there  many  women  who  are  content  to  take 
a  second  place  in  any  man's  heart,  Miss  Norcross?" 

"No  —  not  a  second  place,  sir.  That  is  —  not 
second  to  any  one  human  rival."  She  stopped 
suddenly,  however,  for  she  felt  unequal  to  the  at- 
tempt of  the  pretty  lecture  that  was  in  her 
mind.  He  seemed  so  strong  for  argument. 

"  You  mean  philanthropy,"  he  said,  utterly  dis- 
guising all  cynicism,  if  indeed,  he  felt  any  in  his 
present  mood. 

"  Yes.  One  ought  to  love  his  fellow-man,  Mr. 
Nevada." 


LONG  BRANCH.  333 


"  My  dear  girl,  you  shall  build  a  hospital  ! 
You  shall  have  an  asylum-day  twice  a  week. 
Really,  now,  do  not  smile  my  serious  intent 
away.  You  shall  live  to  be  the  whole  world's 
good  angel." 

"  But   you,    sir  ?  " 

He  sprung  at  the  hope  she  had  not  intended 
to  proffer.  "  I  ?  Never  mind  about  me.  I  '11  be 
the  respectable  and  faithful  Judas  who  carries 
the  bag  ! "  He  would  have  broken  into  a  hearty 
laugh,  but  that  he  was  not  yet  sure  of  her. 

No,  indeed  ;  not  yet  sure  of  her.  She  promptly 
recognized  her  blunder,  and  sobered  him  with, 
"  Why,  Mr.  Nevada,  you  and  I  have  scarce  any 
thing  in  common  with  respect  to  that  One  whom 
Judas  betrayed,  and  his  religion ! " 

"  Clara  Norcross,  I  should  always  respect  your 
religion  —  because  it  was  yours!" 

"  Such  devotion  almost  makes  me  shudder,  sir ! " 

"  I   fail   to   see   why,    my   good   angel." 

"  Because,  Mr.  Nevada.  That  is,  does  it  cost 
you  much  to  patronize  what  you  hold  in  so  light 
esteem,  that  you  never  think  it  worth  your  while 
to  assail  it?" 

He  was  at  a  stand-still.  Her  penetration  was 
more  than  he  had  given  her  credit  for.  Of 
course  she  was  right.  This  brilliant  man  of  the 


334  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

world  had  never  taken  the  trouble  to  argue  the 
point,  even,  as  to  whether  "these  old  myths  and 
fables "  were  true  or  false.  To  patronize  her 
faith,  then,  would  seem  to  her  like  indulging  a 
woman's  fancy  for  diamonds  and  -laces.  But  he 
was  honest ;  he  tapped  the  floor  with  his  stick, 
and  out  with, — 

"  You  are  right,  Miss  Norcross.  For  better  or 
worse,  I  've  shown  you  my  heart,  and  yet " 

"  One  can  but  respect  your  frankness,  Mr.  Ne- 
vada," she  added,  to  encourage  him  to  finish. 

"  Perhaps  one  whom  I  love  might  teach  me," 
looking  up  brightly. 

"  I  am  glad  you  said  that,  sir.  I  shall  always 
pray  that  you  may  find  the  truth.  But,  Mr. 
Nevada,  marriage  for  convenience  is  bad  enough. 
A  marriage  for  conversion  nearly  always  fails. 
Especially  with  you  it  would;  so  strong  a  nature, 
you,  and  I  so  weak ! " 

"  You  bright  woman,  you  make  me  admire  you 
all  the  more  !  " 

"  But  it  should  be  love  between  us,  not  ad- 
miration." 

"  Yes,  believe  me.  Loved  before  all  the 
world !  " 

"I  —  I  must  not  stay  to  converse  longer  upon 
this  subject,  Mr.  Nevada." 


LONG  BRANCH.  335 


"  No,  certainly  not,  if  you  wish  to  go.  But 
I  have  one  more  word  to  speak."  He  now  in 
turn  hesitated,  and  glanced  out  towards  the  beach, 
where  the  four  forms  of  the  President  and  those 
good  men,  his  supporters,  could  be  dimly  descried. 
Four  forms  of  power ;  yet  so  small  and  fly-like 
that,  if  the  sea  would,  the  sea  could  have  licked 
them  up  with  one  lap  of  its  foam-flecked  tongue, 
so  it  seemed,  and  the  world  would  have  gone 
on  just  the  same,  —  though  our  story  would  have 
gone  on  differently  from  this  point,  had  the  sea 
so  behaved  to  the  land's  lords. 

"  I  am  waiting  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say, 
Mr.  Nevada,"  said  Clara,  kindly  enough.  She 
made  him  think  of  an  albatross,  majestic,  color- 
less now,  with  crest  uplifted  and  white  fluffy 
wing,  like  robes  gathered  for  passage ;  and,  as 
he  had  more  than  once  caught  her  seaward 
glances,  he  supposed  her  purpose  to  be  to  claim 
the  protection  of  her  father's  society. 

"  It  is  this,  Miss  Norcross :  when  you  meet 
your  father  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say,  re- 
member, on  the  honor  of  a  gentleman,  you  may 
take  it,- — I  disclaim  all  possible  participation  in 
any  schemes  of  his  which  may  compromise  a 
lady's  liberty." 

The   albatross   had   spread   her   wings. 


336  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

As  for  Nevada,  of  course,  he  could  not  stand 
there,  looking  after  her,  with  every  body  passing 
and  wondering  why  mortal  man  should  suffer 
such  beauty  to  tiptoe  its  undefended  way  across 
the  thronged  drive.  He  entered  the  smoking- 
room,  therefore,  and  studied  her  from  behind  the 
blinds.  The  identical  act  and  simultaneous,  if  you 
please,  as  this  historian  has  since  taken  pains 
to  ascertain,  that  was  employing  Andrew  Nor- 
cross,  you  may  remember.  Joe  Nevada,  lighting 
his  cigar,  said,  "  Poor  Norcross  !  He  must 
dig  out  of  his  troubles  as  best  he  can.  I  can 't 
intrigue  against  that  glorious  girl's  happiness. 
But  I  must  never  suffer  myself  to  meet  her 
again."  And  he  sat  down  to  study  the  Saturday 
evening's  stock  quotations  with  a  view  of  business, 
his  care-all,  on  the  morrow. 

Clara  paused  on  the  sands  a  rod  or  two  from 
the  group  of  great  and  good  men,  telegraphing 
by  little  urgent  signs  to  her  father. 

Mr.  Norcross  excused  himself,  and  advanced 
to  meet  her,  and  was  uncertain  of  himself  at 
once.  She  was  so  radiant,  so  white,  so  breath- 
less, so  child-like  in  her  distress,  and  then,  too, 
all  alone ! 

"What   is   it,   pet?" 

"  I    want    to    go    straight    away    from    here  at 


LONG  BRANCH.  337 


once,  papa ! "  Her  cheeks  were  in  one  of  their 
pearl-white  moments. 

"Well,  well,"  and  he  forced  a  smile.  "It  is 
the  Sabbath,  and  it  is  against  your  principles  to 
travel  on  Sunday.  What 's  up  ?  " 

She   told   him,    all   in   two   breaths. 

But  when  she  searched  his  face  for  signs  of 
surprise,  or  kindling  alliance  with  his  spoiled 
child,  she  saw  no  such  signs.  With  that  she 
promptly  read  his  secret.  He  knew  all,  then,  and 
had  planned  all,  just  as  his  hot  menace,  uttered 
at  Crosston,  should  have  forewarned  her. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  their  attitude : 
they  did  not  stir  from  their  tracks  in  the  sand. 
It  was  a  grapple  of  desperation. 

He   said :    "  Clara,    this   displeases  me,  gravely." 

She  said :  "  Why,  papa,  am  I  not  free  to  say 
at  least  what  I  will  not  do  with  myself?" 

"No,  child.  You  —  I — we  are  bound  hand 
and  foot!" 

"Is   it   financial   needs   of   yours?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  let  us  prepare,  at  once,  to  dig  a  living 
out  of.  mother's  little  New  Hampshire  farm! — or 
beg,  even.  No,  not  beg.  We  could  yet  live,  if 
you  had  lost  all.  You  have  indeed  lost  all,  if 
you  depend  on  the  Nevadas,  for  this  young  gen- 


33$  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

tleman's  last  word  to  me  must  have  meant  that. 
He  repudiates  unmanly  designs  to  enforce  the 
alliance  !  " 

"  What ! " 

"Hush!"  She  cried  out  piteously.  "Don't 
tell  every  body.  Do  you  think  people  are  watch- 
ing us  ? "  Then  she  repeated  to  the  unhappy 
man  Joe  Nevada's  parting  words. 

The  iron  color  changed  to  sickly  copper  hues 
in  Lemuel  Norcross'  face.  The  resolute,  un- 
daunted look,  habitual,  worn  a  life-time,  melted 
like  wax  under  sunbeams.  He  caught  at  the 
round  shoulder  of  his  daughter,  and,  supporting 
himself  for  a  moment  thus,  left  the  marks  of 
his  desperate  grief  with  tracery  of  lace  on  the 
ivory  arm. 

But  the  next  moment  came  color  enough. 
Scarlet,  red,  deeper  red,  purple !  His  counte- 
nance was  alarming  —  such  a  surge  of  blood  to 
the  brain.  Hoarsely  he  ground  out  the  words  at 
length  : 

"  Girl !  oh,  my  child  !  You  spoiler  of  plans ! 
Curses  on  the  day  we  ever  saw  that  minister's 
family  in  our  village  !  Here  !  Read  it  for  your- 
self." And  he  pulled  a  crumpled  telegraph  dis- 
patch, with  official  mark  upon  it,  from  his 
pocket.  "  I  had  intended  to  let  your  mother  give 


LONG  BRANCH.  339 


you  this  and  break  the  news  in  a  pleasant,  com- 
mon-sense way.  But  take  it !  " 

Clara  held  the  dispatch  in  her  hand,  and,  read- 
ing the  superscription,  declined  to  open  it  with, 
"This  is  addressed  to  the  President.  Why  should 
I  concern  myself  with  it  ?  Here,"  proffering  it 
in  return. 

"Read  it!"  her  father  again  commanded.  "It 
is  unsealed." 

She   has    read   it. 

"  God  forgive  me  !  I  wish  you  had  n't !  "  Poor 
Norcross. 

But  she  has  read  it  again.  Again !  She  tears 
it  in  two,  as  her  clenched  hands  are  thrust 
down  and  her  rigid  features  are  turned  staring 
towards  the  sea. 

"  Turn   to   me,    child  !  " 

But  now  in  the  sand  where  she  has  sunk 
down,  and  as  her  fingers  strip  the  paper  to  tat- 
ters, she  is  saying,  "  Dead  ?  Paul  Havens  dead  ? 
It  can  not  be,  and  the  sun  so  brightly  shining ! 
Oh,  it  was  the  hot  sun,  the  fever,  the  ever- 
glades !  Papa  ? "  looking  up  all  pleadingly  now, 
with  every  spark  of  defiance  quenched  from  the 
tender,  wonderful  eyes.  "  Papa  ?  "  looking  up  to 
break  a  man's  heart,  her  fingers  busy  with  their 
destruction.  "  Papa,  you  do  not  believe  it,  do 


34°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

you  ? "  And  as  the  man  threw  himself  kneeling 
at  her  side  and  drew  her  head  to  his  bosom  in 
an  alarm  of  dismay  and  repentance,  she  went  on  : 
"  What  did  it  say,  papa  ?  The  expedition  all 
down  with  the  fever,  and  Lieutenant  Havens 
dead  ?  Paul  is  not  a  lieutenant,  papa ! "  She 
caught  at  that,  and  a  flash  of  hope  illumined  the 
pitiful  face,  a  gleam  more  heart-breaking  than  the 
cloud  that  it  displaced. 

".They  call  him  lieutenant,  child,  while  in  the 
service,  you  know."  But  then,  the  male  blun- 
derer, instantly  he  added,  "It  may  all  be  a  mis- 
take." Kissing  her,  kissing  her  hands  and  her 
cheeks.  "Try  to  forget  it.  Come.  Let's  go  to 
mother.  Yes,  there  must  be  some  mistake.  You 
see,  the  President  didn't  attach  much  importance 
to  it " 

"But  would  he  attach  much  importance  to  any 
thing,  papa?  Any  thing  so  small  as  one  little 
steamer  full  of  human  beings  whom  he  never 
saw,  I  mean  ? "  Thus  she  argued  against  her  own 
hope,  after  the  old  and  dreadful  manner  of  all 
the  heartbroken. 

The  President,  sitting  on  the  breezy  bench, 
legs  crossed,  holding  peripatetic  court  of  great 
and  good  men,  who  stand  around  him  puffing 
incense !  The  laughter  that  bursts  out  now  and 


LONG  BRANCH.  341 


then  and  is  borne  down  to  this  agonized  pair ! 
The  President's  secretary,  reading  out  various 
dispatches  every  now  and  then,  as  in  duty 
bound,  and  then  stuffing  out  his  pockets  with 
them !  Poor  President,  he  is  human !  He  must 
have  his  Sabbath  worship;  he  must  have  his 
smoking  hour;  he  must  be  permitted  to  listen 
to  the  sea.  What  is  one  fine  fellow,  more 
or  less,  —  generous  heart,  trained  mind,  drawing 
fine  lines  and  angles  that  the  President  could  no 
more  draw  than  he  could  paint  a  Titian ;  doing 
work  to  be  remembered  when  presidents  are 
forgotten,  in  the  long  procession  of  them;  — 
what  is  one  young,  eloquent  spirit,  more  or  less, 
martyr  to  the  love  of  an  old,  worn-out  minister, 
in  his  eyes  ?  The  girl  sat  with  her  stony,  ter- 
rible gaze  fixed  on  the  distant  group. 

"Clara!  Clara!"  cried  the  wretched  Norcross, 
"are  you  going  mad?  Heavens!  What  shall  I 
do  ?  Come,  my  child,  use  your  will.  Oh,  I  'U 
do  any  thing  you  say.  I  '11  go  have  a  relief  ex- 
pedition started  from  some  southern  port  in  an 
hour.  I'll " 

"  Stop,  papa ! "  Clara  sprang  to  her  feet  as 
soon  as  her  father,  and  caught  him  by  the  arm. 
"  Never  go  near  those  men  again  ! " 

"What   would  you  have   me  do?" 


342  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Look  at  her,  every  body,  —  this  troubled  beauty 
on  the  glistening  sands  there !  Only  you  are  too 
far  off,  every  body,  —  on  the  drives,  up  the  beach, 
behind  the  blinds  of  cottages,  to  plainly  see, 
and  you  all  wonder  what  it  means.  Color  enough 
now,  and  courage,  too,  and  faith  —  if  only  she 
had  wisdom  !  Lemuel  Norcross,  for  the  moment, 
as  submissive  before  her  as  her  waiting  maid ! 
And  I  do  n't  wonder,  fearing  for  her  life  under 
his  careless — yes,  only  careless — blow. 

"Now  how  good  you  are  again,  dear  papa," 
her  white  fingers  a  bracelet  on  his  wrist. 

"  No ;  I  am  wrong,  and  you  are  in  the  right, 
therefore  I  obey  you." 

"  Dear  papa,"  kissing  his  hand,  "  it  is  written 
I  should  honor  you." 

"  And  written  that  parents  should  not  provoke 
their  children  to  anger.  I  've  read  my  Bible  too 
much  or  too  little,  child.  I  have  just  enough 
religion  to  make  me  miserable,  in  a  time  of 
trouble — not  enough  to  guide  or  comfort  me  \ 
How  I  want  to  save  your  life  and  your  reason ! 
Tell  me  what  will  please  you.  It  shall  be  done." 

Clara's   answer   was   thrilling,  — 

"Papa,  this  news  is  a  lie !  I  know  it,  know 
it,  know  it  is!  God  is  too  good,  that  it  should 
be  true!" 


LONG  BRANCH.  343 


"Well,  well,  now,"  he  replied,  determined  to 
encourage  her  till  they  could  get  away  from  this 
public  place,  though  he  knew  how  conclusive  the 
dispatch  was  regarded  by  the  officials  yonder.  "  I 
would  believe  that  —  for  a  day  or  two  at  least. 
Then  what  ?  " 

"Telegraph  them  at  Amherst.  They  are  all 
there !  " 

"  Certainly.  Why,  the  boy  was  due  there  to- 
day. And  Andrew  can  go  down  on  our  tug  to 
meet  the  Savannah  steamer.  She  arrives  on 
Thursdays." 

"  You  are  so  good,  to  help  me  plan  it  out." 
More  kisses:  and,  though  no  smiles,  almost  tears, 
which  will  help  her  just  as  much.  "But  Puss  — " 

"Exactly,  Clara.  She  can  do  the  kind  thing  by 

the  young  man's "  He  caught  himself  just 

in  time  to  repress  "remains." 

"  Yes,  she  may  greet  him  ! "  exclaimed  Clara, 
not  observing  his  almost  blunder.  "Puss  may 
attend  him  and  have  him  all  to  herself!  God 
help  me  to  say  it  !  If  she  will  only  nurse  him 
back  to  health  again.  At  Uncle  Will's  house ! 
Telegraph  Andrew,  too,  then,  papa,"  clapping 
hands  excitedly. 

"  Gracious  me ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  an  idea 
flashed  upon  him.  "  Gracious  !  "  Though  of  late 


344  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

years  the  recreant  deacon  could  use  stronger  ex- 
clamations on  occasions.  "Are  you  both  in  love 
with  the  boy  ?  " 

"I'll  walk  'straight  back  to  the  cottage,  papa," 
resumed  Clara,  ignoring  his  question,  "and  be,  oh, 
so  calm  and  silent,  if  you  '11  begin  now  to  go  — 
hurry — up  to  the  hotel  and  send  the  dispatches." 

He  turned  and  walked  one  way.  She  turned 
and  walked  the  other.  Had  you  seen  either  at  a 
distance,  as  Joe  Nevada  did  from  the  smoking- 
room,  glancing  up  by  chance,  as  the  party  of  the 
great  and  good  did,  glancing  down  by  intention, 
you  might  have  supposed  the  lady's  errand  had 
been  the  request  to  order  a  carriage  for  a  twilight 
drive. 

"  I  '11  find  out  the  facts  for  her.  That 's  what  it 
amounts  to.  The  idea  that  I  should  ever  be  going 
on  such  an  errand.  But,  heavens  !  I  thought  the 
girl  would  go  mad.  What  a  face !  Can  it  be  that 
she  was  inspired,  and  the  chap  's  alive  ?  Why,  if 
so,  then  let  this  shrewd  Puss  catch  her  mouse  and 
help  me  out.  That 's  excellent !  " 


DISAPPOINTED.  345 


XVIII. 

DISAPPOINTED. 

-  ANDREW  NORCROSS,  coat  off,  cuffs 
just  being  taken  off,  this  hot  summer 
morning,  in  the  private  office  of  NORCROSS 

BROTHERS,  Street,  Boston.  Reads  telegrams 

first.  Reads  several.  Suddenly  this  one. 

"Paul  Havens  dead  or  dying.  ,  Without  doubt, 
dead.  Probably  on  Savannah  Steamer.  Do  the 
polite  thing  all  round.  If  in  time,  better  go  meet 
on  our  launch.  Answer  what  find  out  to  me. 
L.  NORCROSS." 

"  This  is  shocking !  Wonder  if  Puss  knows  it. 
About  kill  her,  —  and  the  other  pretty  girl,  too. 
Mighty  nice  fellow.  Of  course  he's  dead.  That's 
the  kind  that  die.  What  a  horrid  thing  is 
Death ! "  Touching  two  bells.  Then  two  mes- 
sengers. "  Tell  my  carriage  to  wait.  Quick  !  And 
you,  look  up  office  of  the  Savannah  Steamship 
Company."  Touchimg  another  bell.  "Call  the 
launch  by  telegraph.  Tell  Capt'n  to  come  up 
to  India  Wharf  at  once.  Confound  it !  Wish 
I  knew  day  of  those  steamers." 


34-6  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  It  is  to-day,  sir,"  replied  one  of  the  young 
messengers.  "My  uncle  is  a " 

"  Never  mind  about  your  uncle.  Due  to-day, 
—  eh?  What  hour?"  Andrew  Norcross  had  got 
cuffs  on  again,  and  coat  was  going  on. 

"I    can't    tell,    sir." 

"No,  of  course  not.  Here.  My  hat.  I  shall 
be  out  perhaps  all  the  morning.  I  say,  Sam,  I  'd 
give  you  fifty  dollars  if  you  could  surprise  me 
with  another  piece  of  information  as  promptly. 
But  of  course  you  could  n't.  Mr.  Wardell,  attend 
to  things." 

"  Please,  sir,  may  I  try  for  the  fifty  dollars  ? " 
asked  the  young  employe,  barely  anticipating  the 
slammed  door. 

"  Yes  ! "  Andrew  looked  back  to  reply.  "  Tell 
me  where  an  old  clergyman  by  the  name  of 
Havens,  recently  come  from  New  Hampshire, 
lives  ! " 

The  boy  laughed,  chagrined,  and  turned  away 
saying,  "  Give  it  up,  sir."  But  fifty  dollars  was 
worth  trying  for  still.  At  least,  the  information 
might  be  worth  forty,  or  thirty,  or  ten,  several 
days  away. 

Andrew  had  often  thought  of  employing  the 
means  which  were  ready  at  hand  enough,  for 
such  information.  But  he  had  felt  that  he  had 


DISAPPOINTED.  347 


no  excuse  for  such  detective  work.  Even  now,  it 
was  the  impulse  of  this  shocking  news  that  em- 
boldened him.  He  regretted  it,  instantly ;  for,  if 
he  did  not  intercept  young  Havens  alive  and  on 
the  steamer,  of  course  he  would  n't  feel  free  to 
obtrude  inquiry  at  his  father's  dwelling,  so  care- 
fully concealed. 

"  I  'm  not  flattered,  Mr.  Norcross,"  said  the 
obsequious  agent  of  the  great  Southern  line,  fol- 
lowing him  to  the  door,  "  that  so  great  a  house 
as  yours  keeps  no  better  track  of  us.  The  St. 
Johns  to-day,  sir ;  landed  all  passengers  an  half 
hour  ago.  Yes,  sir.  Not  many,  you  know,  at  this 
time  of  year.  Expecting  friends,  Mr.  Norcross  ? " 

"  Well,  yes.  That  is,  Lieutenant  Havens,  of  the 
coast-survey " 

"  Exactly.  Very  low,  if  not  dead.  Indeed,  very 
distressing  case.  People  over  from  the  navy- 
yard,  two  or  three  surgeons,  and  other  blue- 
coats.  Treated  with  great  distinction,  sir.  But 
little  he  cares,  poor  fellow!  A  goner,  sir,  sure. 
I  'm  sorry  to  distress  you,  but  I  know  that 
swamp-fever  myself.  A  man  's  been  on  the  line 
long 's  I  have,  knows  them  burning  eyes." 

"Good-day.  What  a  fearful  heat!  Ah  —  by 
the  way,  were  the  sick  man's  family,  any  of 
them,  here  ? " 


348  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

The  bowing  agent  thought  so.  Quite  a  family 
group.  "But  all  gone  over  to  the  navy-yard  hos- 
pital, sir." 

Why,  yes.  Andrew  should  have  thought  of 
that.  When  it  comes  to  a  pinch,  this  govern- 
ment takes  care  of  its  own.  It  would  be  quite 
proper  to  drive  over  and  make  inquiry,  certainly. 
Or,  should  one  wait  for  the  morning-papers  ?  A 
naval-officer's  fate  will  be  in  the  great  newspa- 
pers, without  doubt,  in  the  morning.  Drive  over? 
On  the  whole,  yes. 

"  At  all  events,  he 's  out  of  the  reach  of  our 
patronage,"  said  Andrew,  aloud  to  himself,  for 
he  was  alone  in  his  carriage.  "  Tim,  turn  round. 
I'll  go  back  to  the  store.  What  pride  —  the 
Havenses  !  Let  'em  work  it  out,  then,"  which 
sudden  turn-about  of  sentiment  was  brought  about 
by  the  sight  of  the  flag  proudly  floating  out  on 
the  sky  above  the  navy-yard  enclosure.  The 
dear  old  flag  seemed  to  wave  such  majestic  wel- 
come and  care  for  its  own,  —  red,  white,  and  blue 
against  the  brazen  heavens,  beckoning  and  prom- 
ising ;  it  seemed  to  the  conceited  young  Nor- 
cross  as  if  it  waved  him  quite  out  of  the  way, 
as  utterly  unnecessary,  with  his  "doing  the  po- 
lite thing." 

But   by   the   time   he   had    rumbled   back   to  his 


DISAPPOINTED.  349 


store,  trying  in  vain  to  satisfactorily  arrange  his 
telegrams,  one  to  his  uncle  and  another  to  his 
father,  the  generous  element  in  Andrew  Nor- 
cross'  impulsive  nature  got  control  again.  "  Con- 
found the  fellow,  I  like  his  honors !  Hope  to 
the  fates  he  '11  pull  through.  After  all,  a  hos- 
pital 's  a  hospital.  If  they  had  a  decent  home 
to  take  him  to,  no  doubt  they  'd  carried  him  off 
with  'em.  I  wish  I  had  him  with  me." 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  Andrew  Norcross 
telegraphed  the  meagre  news  that  he  had, 
and  left  the  rest  of  the  tale  to  be  telegraphed 
by  the  news-gatherers  of  the  press,  which  latter 
gentlemen  got  from  the  surgeon  at  the  hospital 
the  brief  word,  — 

"  No,  not  dead ;  but  perhaps  it  were  better  if 
he  were  dead,"  with  a  significant  tap  of  the 
forefinger  on  his  own  forehead. 

They  accordingly  sent  abroad  the  small  item 
that  the  young  man  had  died,  in  delirium,  dur- 
ing the  night. 

AT  AMHERST. 

"As  brave  and  true  a  heart  as  ever  lived!'1 
said  the  president  of  the  college,  and  referring 
to  Paul  Havens. 


35°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

It  was  necessary  to  make  some  sort  of  ex- 
planation to  the  chapel  full  of  people,  all  in  bright 
June  attire,  sitting  expectant  of  the  great  Bac- 
calaureate Sermon  before  the  graduating  class,  and 
the  second  scholar  ori  the  list  not  with  them. 

The  organ  had  ceased  playing.  The  thunder- 
storm had  not  ceased.  Was  ever  a  commence- 
ment Sunday,  or  a  graduation  day,  without  its 
appropriate  thunder-storm,  breaking  on  the  pro 
cession  and  scattering  the  dear  girls  and  mammas, 
like  a  flock  of  doves,  to  the  shelter  of  the 
chapel  doors  ? 

"  The  young  gentleman  who  had  been  assigned 
the  second  honor  in  this  class,"  the  president 
had  begun,  "was  excused  that  he  might  attempt 
a  labor  of  love  in  a  most  honorable  field." 

The  speaker  yet  stood,  in  his  foolish,  black- 
silk  gown  reaching  down  to  his  feet,  which  were 
peeping  from  the  skirts  thereof,  —  did  ever  feet 
look  so  large  as  a  man's  beneath  a  gown?  — 
when  the  first  Long  Branch  telegram  reached 
William  Norcross'  hand.  Mr.  William  Norcross, 
honored  trustee,  sat  upon  the  stage.  With  a 
genuine  shiver  of  distress  the  benevolent  gentle- 
man had  instantly  passed  the  dispatch  to  the 
President. 

A   telegram   knows    no   proprieties,  it  can   never 


DISAPPOINTED.  35 l 

behave  impatiently,  for  it  is  always  master  and 
lord.  The  preacher  laid  down  the  Bible,  adjusted 
his  glasses  anew,  read,  spasmodically  thrust  it 
out  at  arm's  length  where  he  could  read  it  with- 
out glasses,  —  as  old  people  do,  suspicious  of 
spies  when  news  is  unwelcome,  —  and  flushing 
red  with  sorrow,  told  the  audience.  "  A  pain- 
ful rumor  has  reached  the  government,  so 
telegraphs  a  friend,  that  the  surveying  party 
under  Mr.  Havens'  command  have  all  been  pros- 
trated with  the  fever.  It  is  even  feared  that 
our  noble  young  friend  has  already  perished ! " 

Did  you  ever  hear  that  majestic  monster, —  a  vast 
audience,  one  composed  of  many,  —  utter  a  groan? 
You  may  hear  it  to  best  advantage  in  church,  where 
awe  and  piety  repress  the  demonstrations  of  a  mul- 
titude. It  is  pitiful.  It  is  one  great  sob,  and  then 
a  silence  as  if  the  creature's  heart  had  ceased  to 
beat,  waiting  to  hear  more,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 

Happy  is  he,  and  kind  too,  who  knows  how,  just 
then,  to  be  the  mouth-piece  for  this  great  creature, 
Audience.  The  benignant,  the  wise,  the  beloved 
father,  as  it  were,  of  this  community  of  scholars,  — 
for  such  it  is  possible  for  an  American  college 
president  to  be,  did  you  but  know  it,  graduates 
of  Oxford,  Cambridge,  and  Heidelberg,  —  he  knew 
what  to  say.  And  how  tenderly  he  said  it ! 


352  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"As   brave   and  true   a   heart  as   ever   lived."" 

Ah,  ye  listening  undergraduates,  hear  that,  do 
ye  ?  He,  the  thundering  Jupiter  from  Olympus, 
has  just  said  that  of  one  of  you!  And  said  it 
with  broken  utterance  and  tears,  too !  That  one 
so  humble  as  any  of  your  number  could  have 
moved  the  heart  of  that  great  one ;  for  the 
President  is  the  greatest  of  great  men  to  you. 

Said  that,  did  he  ?  Yes,  and  more  :  in  the 
presence  of  this  noble  company,  he  has  gone  on 
to  portray  qualities  of  soul,  high  and  holy  pur- 
poses in  life,  snatches  of  biography  from  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  this  latest  "  St.  Paul," 
which  meet  and  sway  the  audience  with  sorrow  and 
emulation.  He  "sincerely  trusts  the  information  is 
incorrect  [sensation],  and  every  effort  will  be  made 
at  once  to  ascertain,  by  a  warm  friend  of  the 
young  gentleman  who  is  present  ;  I  need  not  men- 
tion his  honored  name,  foremost  in  all  good  deeds." 
Poor  man,  forgive  him  this  almost  unconscious  flat- 
tery to  the  rich  patron,  for  the  rich  patron  deserved 
it  for  once  ;  and  when  could  a  college  president, 
creature  of  the  rich  patrons,  ever  let  occasion  pass 
and  break  the  habit  of  a  lifetime  ? 

"  Hurrah  ! " 

"  Hush  !  It  is  the  New  England  Sabbath, 
bovs."  You  bring  frowns  to  drive  away  good 


DISA  P POINTED.  353 


Prex's  tears.  However,  it  was  the  most  sup- 
pressed hurrah  in  the  world,  though  freighted 
with  such  untold  meaning. 

"  Paul    Havens   dead  ? " 

"The   best   fellow   in   the   old   hive   gone?" 

"  That  giant  broken  and  we  frail  fellows  alive 
to  turn  pale  over  it  ? " 

Let  the  organ  throb  under  the  fingers  of  a 
classmate,  and  let  who  can  sing  the  hymn : 
these  women  and  fathers,  if  they  can.  But  that 
exclusive,  that  isolated  world,  the  college  world, 
is  moved  with  a  thousand  indescribable  emotions. 
Youthful  sensibilities  answer  to  the  rude  touch 
of  "vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity!"  Rival- 
ries, fierce  as  fire,  are  quenched  in  tears.  Next 
to  the  home-circle  there  is  not  a  place  on  earth 
where  death  comes  with  such  awful  shock,  such 
power  to  make  men  feel  and  think  unutterably, 
as  in  the  college  world.  A  world  of  poets  to 
be  offended  by  this  prose  —  Death.  A  world  of 
beginners  confronted  by  the  old  man's  foe  —  the 
End.  A  world  questioner,  met  by  the  historic 
answer,  —  Death.  A  world  of  mind  suddenly 
hand-cuffed  by  a  material  chain,  —  Death.  Draw 
in  your  kites  of  high  ambition,  boys.  What 's 
the  use  of  the  struggle?  How  he  spurned  poverty 
and  lived  above  it !  How  he  shouldered  out 


354  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


obstacles,  and  beat  down  a  path  for  himself ! 
Of  what  fine  courage  was  he,  the  soul  of  chiv- 
alry !  Yet,  here  it  ends,  all  in  a  Florida  swamp, 
on  the  very  day  of  his  honors.  Will  this  ser- 
vice ever  be  done,  that  we  can  go  to  our  rooms 
and  talk  about  him  over  our  books,  and  bemoan 
him,  forgetting  every  fault  he  had,  and  arrange 
for  a  class-meeting  to  draw  up  resolutions? 
Poor  Havens,  old  fellow,  you  had  every  man's 
heart.  We  are  certain  —  now  that  you  are  dead, 
or  dying  —  that  you  bid  fair  to  prove,  yes  we'll 
agree  to  it  now,  the  most  remarkable  young 
man  ever  educated  within  these  walls.  Every- 
body can  say  that  now,  for  it  sounds  well,  and  is 
no  matter ;  it  enhances  the  sensation  of  the  hour. 

"  Havens  ?  I  can  see  him  yet !  "  says  G,  who 
came  next  to  H,  of  course,  in  the  alphabetical 
order  of  the  class-room. 

"  See  him  yet  ? "  Indeed  we  can.  Who  would 
have  predicted  it  of  *such  a  physique  ? "  ask  all 
the  other  H's,  whom  he  often  had  occasion  to 
pony  along  in  a  kindly  and  neighborly  way. 
See  him  yet  ?  Every  passageway,  every  flagged 
walk,  every  door  of  the  rooms  he  occupied  in 
the  venerable  dormitory,  seem  to  reproduce  him 
like  so  many  mirrors.  Who  shall  describe  how 
his  society-men  "can  see  him  yet"  in  his  place  of 


DISAPPOINTED.  355 


laborious  honors  at  the  head  of  their  council  board? 
So  profound  is  the  sensation  of  death  in  college 
ranks,  that  one  may  suggest  to  the  ambitious  who 
graduate  and  have  gone  out  into  the  world,  — 

"You  have  outlived  your  opportunity  to  leave  a 
world  desolate  by  your  dying.  You  must  be  con- 
tent now  to  be  mourned  by  your  heirs  and  a  few 
neighbors ;  for  in  this  outer  world,  different  from 
the  college  world,  your  departure  will  leave  only 
that  sort  of  vacancy  over  which  every  body  will  for- 
get to  weep,  for  asking,  'Who  is  to  be  promoted?" 

"A  lady  has  fainted!  No  wonder.  The  chapel 
is  a  steaming  oven,  after  that  June  shower." 
It  was  a  cautious  remark  by  one  of  the  pro- 
fessors, who  promptly  began  to  bustle  about, 
since  he  was  so  far  from  the  center  of  the 
dmpel,  where  the  commotion  was  transpiring, 
that  there  was  no  danger  of  his  being  called 
upon  to  be  really  useful. 

"Why — why  —  it  is  my  daughter!"  exclaimed 
Mr.  William  Norcross. 

Such  was  the  fact.  The  high-spirited  Puss  !  How 
chagrined  will  she  feel,  a  few  moments  later  on, 
when  she  has  regained  consciousness  in  the  ante- 
room, whither  they  drag  her.  People  who  faint  in 
public  places  must  always  expect  to  be  dragged  out 
as  if  they  had  suddenly  developed  a  contagion. 


356  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Papa,  it  is  nothing.  I  —  I  have  had  a  headache 
all  the  morning.  It  was  —  that  —  my  fan,  please, 
—  that  breakfast  of  fat  meats  at  the  abominable 
boarding  place.  Why  —  will  people  prefer  such 
stuff  for  this  hot  weather  ? " 

Mr.  Norcross  laughs  now.  "  She  's  all  right, 
gentlemen."  It  is  mostly  gentlemen  who  proffer 
their  services  when  a  lady  faints  in  a  church. 
"  She  is  all  right,  you  see  by  the  twinkle  of  her 
old  fun,  and  her  caustic  speech."  Then  he  rubs 
his  chin  and  bends  to  whisper,  "  Better,  now  dar- 
ling ?  Want  to  get  home,  do  n't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  papa,  home  indeed.  To  Boston,"  Then 
getting  to  her  full  height,  this  empress  in  flow- 
ing black  grenadine  with  here  and  there  a  glow 
of  cardinal,  she  cleared  the  room  by  her  glances 
without  having  to  ask  as  much.  As  soon  as 
they  were  alone  she  reiterated  her  request  to 
return  to  the  city.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  determi- 
nation. "  You  can  stay,  you  know,  papa.  I  will 
go  down  on  the  evening  train." 

"But,  Fidelia," — this  being  a  serious  moment  he 
fell  back  on  that  name, — "  I  thought  you  were 
very  anxious  to  be  here  and  see  Mr.  Crane  grad- 
uate, and  enjoy  the  exercises  generally." 

"  Papa,  do  n't  you  see,"  flirting  up  her  sunshade 
with  a  resolute  pop,  "  that  I  am  not  able  to  en- 


DISAPPOINTED.  357 


dure  this  hot  weather?  One  must  walk  everywhere 
in  this  village,  if  one  wishes  to  go  anywhere." 

"To  be  sure.  Let's  not  walk  so  fast."  They 
were  now  down  the  steps  towards  the  country 
highway.  "  To  be  sure.  I  see." 

And  yet  he  did  not  see.  You  need  not  lower 
your  crest  a  bit,  Miss  Puss.  No  one  sees  !  Why 
should  they,  you  never  having  shown  your  heart 
at  home  ?  and  as  for  these  strangers,  pouring 
forth  and  scattering  for  Sunday  dinner,  behind 
you,  why,  to  them  it  was  the  most  trivial  inci- 
dent in  the  world,  a  lady  fainting  from  the  heat. 
You  are  not  unconscious  of  the  true  state  of  the 
case.  If  it  were  to  see  him  here  you  would  stay. 

"By  the  way,"  rapping  his  cane  suddenly  on 
a  stone,  the  sign  to  himself  to  halt.  "  Here  's 
the  telegraph  office.  I  '11  follow  up  that  matter 
of  poor  Havens." 

"  Do,  please  ! "  She  had  done  all  she  dared  in 
leading  him  out  of  the  way  to  confront  the  of- 
fice. "Telegraph  Andrew,  too,  papa.  And  I'll 
walk  on  to  change  to  a  traveling  dress." 

That  is  about  all  we  have  to  say  of  Amherst. 
Farewell,  old  gables  and  towers,  smiling  above  the 
umbrageous  walks  of  the  happiest  and  most  rest- 
less of  worlds.  Goodby,  with  echo  of  evening 
song  across  the  glebe.  The  train  is  moving. 


358  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


Our  people  are  moving  out  of  thee,  into  a  wider 
and  a  meaner  world.  Stephen  Crane  will  return 
from  Springfield,  on  Monday  morning :  he  has 
been  absent  all  this  Sabbath  supplying  a  pulpit 
there  and  earning  his  bread.  He  will  hear  this 
news  of  dear  Paul,  and  not  stay  for  the  sheep- 
skin, but  hurry  off  on  an  errand  of  mercy,  the 
beginning  of  a  very  long  journey  for  mercy's  own 
sake ;  God  must  know  that  about  this  Africa 
business,  for  there 's  no  money  in  it. 

Rolling  wheels.  Backward  looks  :  not  that  Puss 
Norcross  casts  them  for  the  gratification  of  her 
own  sentiment,  so  much ;  but  her  thoughts  are 
of  another  who  once  went  out  from  here  so 
bravely  and  never  will  return  again.  The  sink- 
ing sun  with  scarlet  shafts  flung  wide  across  the 
meadows,  caught  in  many  a  cottage  window, 
smartly  blazing,  and  lingering  warm  upon  the 
chapel  tower  above  the  green.  She  loses  the 
buildings  ;  she  catches  them  again,  for  the  wind- 
ing stream  turns  its  silver  course  about,  compelling 
the  train  to  obey.  Did  he  look  back,  half  fear- 
ing, half  regretting,  yet  brushing  tears  away  with 
manly  resolution  ?  Did  he  feel,  for  himself,  as  a 
bright  and  loving  girl  feels  now  for  him,  putting 
herself  in  his  place  ?  Perhaps  young  men  are  not 
as  impressible  and  foolish  as  we  girls. 


DISA  P POINTED.  359 


Do  n't  believe  it,  sweet  woman,  at  least  not  of 
that  idealist,  Paul  Havens.  Backward  looks  ?  To 
the  noblest  and  truest  men  who  leave  these 
scenes,  there  come  not  in  all  after  life  deeper 
stirrings  of  the  soul  than  those  that  are  given  by 
the  last  backward  looks  as  the  college  fades  away. 
And  you,  exquisite  sympathizer,  you  are  able  to 
enter  into  Paul  Havens  very  mood  and  dream. 
It  would  seem  that  your  life  is  the  complement 
of  his  life,  in  some  sense  belonging  to  it  and 
necessary  to  its  completion,  so  do  your  thoughts 
read  his  thoughts  and  his  dreams  become  your 
dreams.  How  necessary  you  have  been  to  him, 
setting  him  right  in  the  critical  moment,  saving 
him  —  that  is,  if  he  had  lived.  Lived  ?  He  must 
live !  Have  you  not  been  his  good  angel  before  ? 
Shall  it  be  denied  you  now  ?  And  what  good 
has  he  done  you ;  his  very  rescue  having  been 
your  own  rescue,  for  you  have  learned  a  new 
meaning  to  religion  by  your  search  for  arguments. 

They  are  lighting  the  candles  in  the  car.  The 
sultry  night  is  fire-fly  lighted  all  over  the  dark 
meadows.  He  must  live !  For  whom  ?  What  will 
you  say  when  his  true  heart  steadily  turns  to 
the  North  Star?  True:  what  will  I  say?  But 
have  I  not  seen  it  so  turning  all  along  ?  And  do 
I  not  love  him  just  the  same  ?  Has  he  ever, 


360  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

by  so  much  as  the  glint  of  one  of  those  fire-fly 
wings,  shown  any  thing  more  than  friendship's 
affection  for  me  ?  He  is  the  very  soui  of  honor. 
Yet  I  shall  go  right  on  loving  him  just  the  same. 
Can  you  help  that,  my  heart  ?  Just  the  same ; 
just  the  same ;  just  the  same.  The  click  of  the 
car  wheels  sings  it.  I  should  die  without  it.  I 
may  die  with  it.  I  will  try  to  help  her/  my 
cousin.  I  will  bite  my  thin  lips  hard,  and  he 
may  —  may  kiss  her  full  red  lips,  all  his  own! 
I  am  equal  to  that.  I  can  do  any  thing  which 
it  is  my  duty  to  do,  God  helping  me.  To  see 
him  a  useful,  happy  man,  doing  great  good  to 
mankind,  why  I  can  clench  my  hands  very  close 
and  hard  and  say  any  thing  for  that.  I  am 
older  than  he  and  so  might  die  first  and  leave 
him  toiling  alone.  She  is  younger.  What  mat- 
ters it  when  I  die,  so  I  have  done  my  work, 
and  seen  him  full  of  fruits  in  his! 

But  such  tension  can  not  last  without  its  rest. 
A  woman's  rest  is  tears.  She  clicks  the  lock 
of  the  compartment  ;  and,  burying  her  face  in  her 
hands,  cries  out  terribly  :  "  Oh,  God !  oh,  God ! 
Give  me  grace  and  strength  !  How  hard  it  is 
to  live  and  live  rightly  !  "  The  door  being  locked, 
let  us  leave  her  to  God  and  his  angels,  with 
her  struggles. 


IN  TROUBLE. 


XIX. 
IN  TROUBLE. 

NORCROSS  managed  to  follow  up 
the  panic  of  solicitude  into  which  her  dis- 
tress had  thrown  her  selfish  father.  Her  anguish 
had  been  so  real  that,  both  from  promptings  of 
natural  affection,  as  well  as  calculating  motives, 
he  yielded  to  her  wish  and  suffered  her,  with  her 
mother,  to  go  on  to  Boston,  towards  the  last  of 
the  following  week. 

He  reasoned  that  "  women  were  women,  and 
sometimes  the  best  way  to  manage  'em  is  to  let 
'em  have  their  own  way,  by  which  means,  in  a 
revulsion  of  affection,  they  would  return  and  in- 
sist on  you  having  your  way, —  especially  a  dutiful 
daughter  would." 

Then,  too,  Joe  Nevada  was  off ;  had  taken 
himself  off  with  very  delicate  consideration,  it 
must  be  confessed.  Moreover,  his  child's  health 
was  a  vital  matter,  since  she  was  all  he  had  — 
and  sometime  he  must  have  a  son-in-law. 

So  the  plan  was  that  Clara  and  her  mother 
were  to  go  on  for  a  short  visit  at  William's, 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


when,  the  usual  summer  party  being  made  up  of 
Puss,  her  sister,  and  mother,  they  should  run 
over  to  Europe  for  the  summer,  or  to  some 
country  rusticating  ;  anywhere  but  Crosston. 
"  Probably  Europe,  for  one  of  the  partners  must 
go  over  to  France,  now  that,  etc.  etc."  Mr. 
Lemuel  had  thus  planned  it,  while,  for  himself, 
he  "would  plunge  into  the  thicket  of  the  com- 
mercial wilderness,  as  usual." 

The  Commonwealth  Avenue  house  is  open  and 
full,  therefore,  as  never  before  in  July.  Boxes 
and  trunks,  however,  are  now  appearing,  for  two 
weeks  of  almost  speechless  waiting  and  watching 
on  the  part  of  these  two  young  ladies  has  con- 
vinced them  both  that  the  search  is  best  aban- 
doned, as  a  matter  of  course.  For  how  could  two 
ladies  pursue  a  gentleman  who  had  chosen  to 
cover  his  tracks,  in  a  great  city  ? 

"We  can  not  do  any  thing  more,  girls,"  said 
the  two  mothers  —  that  is,  Mrs.  Lemuel  spoke 
the  words  and  Mrs.  William  nodded  the  head. 
"  If  the  Haven  people  wish  to  decline  our  charity 
and  pursue  their  privacy,  why,  we  can't  help  'it." 

The  two  young  women  blushed  and  paled  ac- 
cording to  their  several  habits.  They  were 
mutually  annoyed,  both  by  this  unsought  family 
conference  on  such  a  subject,  and  by  Andrew's 


IN  TROUBLE. 


merciless  and  brotherly  remark,  as  he  entered  the 
room  with,  — 

"  Oh,  he 's  here  in  town,  and  alive.  I  have 
reiterated  it  to  you,  that  I  barely  missed  him  at 

the  steamer.  Professor  ,  at  Cambridge,  who 

is  high  authority  on  coast-survey  matters,  and 
who  regards  young  Havens  with  such  esteem, 
he  informed  me  the  other  night  at  the  club, 
all  about  them.  The  professor  visits  them.  I  can 
tell  you  their  street  and  number,  if  you  want." 

"  Who  can  be  so  rude  as  a  privileged  brother 
to  his  sister,  and  the  other  ladies  of  his  home  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  William,  severely. 

"  Ask  him  if  he  has  seen  the^  young  ac- 
tress   " 

"  Minnie  !  "  was  the  mother's  sharp  rebuke  to 
the  younger  daughter.  "  If  there  is  not  to  be 
courtesy  at  home,  where  can  you  expect  to  find 
it  ?  Now,  children,"  she  went  on,  "  I  assume 
that  we  have  all  had  only  a  Christian  interest 
in  the  family  of  this  afflicted  clergyman." 

"  And  how  finiky  even  the  deserving  poor 
sometimes  are,  Matilda  !  "  Mrs.  Lemuel  thrust  in. 

"  And,"  the  hostess  went  on,  only  regarding 
the  remark  by  catching  her  breath,  and  clouding 
her  benevolent  face  with  a  transient  shade  of 
pain  and  pity,  "  And  now  we  can  not  serve  them, 


364  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

because  they  do  not  need  our  kind  offices,  let 
us  say.  I  have  explained  the  whole  situation, 
their  possible  extreme  want  and  illness,  to  our 
dear  pastor,  Mr.  Crestlake " 

"The  dear  soul,"  was  Andrew's  sly  comment  on 
Crestlake,  as  he  drew  on  his  gloves  by  the  door, 
for  which  he  got  such  a  glance  from  his  mother. 

"And  he,"  she  continued,  "always  having 
money  of  mine,  like  a  holy  almoner " 

"  Will  know  how  to  alleviate,  in  the  most  kid- 
gloved  and  munificent  way,  the  woes  of  a  brother 
clergyman,  whose  white  hairs  are  sprinkled  with 
ashes  ! "  said  Andrew,  with  borrowed  gestures, 
and  resonant  tones  not  his  own. 

Even  Minnie's  face  turned  against  him,  on  this 
speech.  Every  other  face  having  all  along  been 
against  him,  he  promptly  apologized,  remarking 
smilingly,  — 

"  Dear  mamma,  yours  is  the  kindest  heart  in 
the  world.  Forgive  me,  all  of  you.  Now,  the 
upshot  of  the  council  is,  that  I  shall  telegraph 
to  our  New  York  agent  this  morning,  to  engage 
passage  for  all  of  you,  with  father,  on  the  Adriatic, 
next  week.  Whew !  But  your  indecision  and  delay 
will  cost  us  a  pile  of  money  to  get  on  that  ship!" 

Cost  ?  How  delightful  it  must  be  to  live  as 
oblivious  of  cost  —  cost  in  money,  you  know,  for 


IN  TROUBLE. 


there  are  other  costs  than  money  which  none 
can  escape — as  these  five  ladies  lived!  And  so  the 
family  conference  broke  up,  without  another  word. 

It  is  on  the  pier,  reader.  Not  the  White  Star 
pier  in  New  York,  where  the  rough  and  the 
smooth  of  life  meet  for  an  hour ;  where  the 
bawl  of  the  draymen  mingles  with  the  silver 
farewells  of  gentle  women  ;  where  the  iron-bound 
hoofs  of  huge  horses  strike  the  same  planks  as 
the  tiny  slippers  of  fine  ladies  ;  where  the  stench 
of  offal  mingles  with  the  fragrance  of  floral  gifts. 
It  is  not  the  gang-plank  of  the  popular  steamer, 
over  whose  cleats  Crcesus  stubs  his  gouty  toes, 
and  disappears  within  the  huge  iron  casket,  to 
share  the  fortunes  of  the  meanest  sailor,  if  she 
sink  or  swim.  That  was  the  pier  from  whence 
the  Norcross  party  left  their  country. 

No.  It  is  some  weeks  later,  and  on  the  Cu- 
nard  wharf,  in  East  Boston.  These  freighting 
steamers,  as  things  were  then,  though  bearing 
the  proud  Cunard  name,  will  carry  a  missionary 
and  his  bride  over  the  sea  for  a  more  economi- 
cal fare.  The  sun  of  August  burns  its  track 
along  the  copper-colored  eastern  sky.  The  almost 
deserted  streets  hide,  here  and  there,  a  pedestrian 
in  the  narrow  belt  of  blue,  sickly  shade  they  can 


366  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

cast.  Only  the  white  slaves  who  must  brave 
the  torrid  heat,  and  even  they  drive  slowly,  or 
crawl  slowly.  Every  material  thing  that  can  crack, 
yawns  and  shrivels,  like  the  wharf  planking,  in 
this  morning  glare.  The  stillness  is  like  the  Sab- 
bath. The  steamer  has  been  given  her  cargo  in 
the  night,  out  of  sheer  mercy  to  stevedores,  ship- 
ping-clerks, and  horses. 

A  cheap  hack  creeps  slowly  and  gratefully  so 
far  under  a  shed  that  the  panting  beasts  are 
sheltered.  Its  door  opens,  after  many  a  blow 
from  within,  and  Paul  Havens  steps  out,  on  the 
instant  thrusting  up  his  umbrella.  It  is  the 
same  commanding  stature,  the  same  broad,  shapely 
shoulders,  though  the  coat  hangs  somewhat  loosely 
on  them  ;  the  same  bright  eye,  in  the  most 
manly  countenance  in  the  world,  though  marks 
of  recent  and  departing  suffering  are  chiseled 
there.  There  is  the  same  rich,  musical  ring  in 
the  voice  as  he  says,  extending  one  arm,  — 

"  I  can  support  you,  father.  We  can  drive  no 
nearer.  Steve,  you  give  mother  your  arm,  and 
I  will  return  for  Nora." 

"  Do  you  see  any  thing  of  Bella  ? "  the  aged 
invalid  asks,  as  he  descends. 

"The  horse-cars,  which  she  took,  run  on  the  other 
side  of  this  block,  father.  Ah,  there  she  is  !  " 


IN  TROUBLE.  367 


"  Yes.  Oh,  such  a  scalding !  "  was  Bella's  re- 
ply for  herself.  "  Five  of  you,  crowded  into  one 
poor  hack,  must  have  felt  it.  Never  mind,  sis," 
taking  Nora  under  her  sunshade,  "There '11 'be 
more  carriages  in  the  family  when  you  come  — " 
but,  after  all,  her  heart  was  too  full  for  banter. 
Yet,  through  the  fast-falling  tears,  the  marble 
pallor  of  the  speaker  gleams  with  a  defiance 
of  poverty,  and  a  menace  to  their  hard  lot,  quite 
discordant  with  the  gentler  mood  of  the  others. 

"  I  fear  the  midsummer  heat  will  prevent  a 
very  large  attendance  of  dear  brethren  and  sis- 
ters from  the  city  churches,"  remarked  fearless 
Stephen  Crane. 

Ah,  how  illustrious  he  appeared  that  day !  His 
bloodless  cheeks  wore  a  defiance  holier  far  than 
the  high-spirited  woman's,  which  we  have  just 
noted.  Defiance  of  lurking  disease,  of  the  rough 
old  sea,  which  he  dreaded  like  a  child  of  three 
years,  of  the  river,  and  swamp,  and  mountain, 
and  wilderness,  and  the  horrors  of  barbarism, 
and  defiance,  most  of  all,  of  this  next  terrific 
hour,  when  heart-strings  should  be  pulled  till 
they  snapped.  All  this  for  the  love  of  Christ 
which  constrained  him. 

"  We  shall  be  alone,  no  doubt,"  Paul  answered. 

"  Probably ! "    said   Bella.     If   it   were   but  possi- 


DOLLARS  AIVD  DUTY. 


ble  to  transcribe  all  the  sarcasm,  the  irony, 
the  vengeance,  and  the  ambition  with  which  this 
cultured  woman  spoke  that  one  word  !  And  she 
never  looked  more  transcendently  beautiful  than 
in  saying  it.  What  an  agony  rent  this  stately 
creature's  soul  !  The  utter  misery  of  sisterly 
parting,  a  parting,  perhaps,  forever.  The  absolute 
contrast  and  comment  of  Nora's  life-work  beside 
her  own  proud  ambitions  and  purposes.  A  mis- 
sionary !  An  actress  !  Children  of  the  same 
loins.  Her  torturous  "  contempt  for  the  church 
which  had  so  cast  off  and  neglected  her  noble 
sire."  Her  resolute  purpose  to  believe  her  sister 
was  going  upon  a  fool's  errand.  Yet,  every  now 
and  then,  a  changeful  mood,  and  a  rising  of  a 
great  tide  of  childhood  beliefs,  offering  to  her 
sweet  truth  and  rest  in  the  religion  of  her 
father,  till  she  almost  was  upon  the  point  of  cast- 
ing herself  at  Nora's  feet,  confessing.  So  had 
it  been  for  these  three  awful  days  and  nights, 
last  past,  since  her  sister's  humble  wedding. 
Pity  her.  Happier  far  is  that  soul  which  has 
never  believed,  than  the  soul  which,  once  believ- 
ing, afterwards  seeks  "  liberty  "  in  doubt. 

"  Bella  !  Bella  !  "  It  was  all  the  chiding  her 
father  could  trust  himself  to  give  with  speech, 
but  his  fond  blue  eyes  left  off  seeking  a  place 


IN  TROUBLE.  369 


for  his  cane  and  feet,  to  fasten  upon  her 
face. 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it  ! "  Bella  burst  out, 
meaning,  probably,  that  she  was  all  wrong.  And 
she  threw  her  arms  passionately  about  her  sis- 
ter's neck,  kissing  her  over  and  over  again. 

"  You  must,  must  bear  up,  dear,"  whispered 
Nora.  "  Every  night,  in  the  little,  lonely  room, 
remember."  That  is,  remember  the  covenant  that 
these  two  cradle-mates  had  made,  that  they 
would  give  the  last  waking  thought  to  each  other, 
and  pray  for  each  other's  repose. 

"  Good  sister,"  Paul  remarked,  "  they  who  try 
to  serve  their  fellows  make  up  their  minds 
before  hand  that  it  is  the  most  thankless  task. 
They  hear  Christ's  words,  'ye  have  done  it  into 
me.'  Be  careful  of  this  slippery  deck,  father ; 
they  are  just  now  flushing  it,  not  being  ac- 
customed to  regard  passenger's  arrivals.  What  do 
we  care  whether  any  one  is  here  to  say  these 
heroes  goodby  or  not  ?  We  are  sure  God  and 
angels  are  here  !" 

You  would  have  pronounced  the  speaker  a 
happy  man.  If  there  was  a  trace  of  iron  in  the 
resolute  smile  he  wore ;  if  his  full  eyes  had,  at 
first,  cast  an  understanding  glance  on  Bella 
speaking  bitterly,  as  if  he  had  once  known  all 


37°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

about  her  bitterness  in  his  own  soul  ;  you  would 
yet  have  seen  so  calm  and  clear  a  radiance  pre- 
vailing over  these  that  you  could  not  doubt  his 
inward  peace.  Evidently  this  brother  had  won 
great  authority,  by  his  worth,  for  the  fiery 
Bella  did  not  resent  his  rebuke  nor  accuse  him 
of  preaching  at  her.  No  doubt  he  lived  in  this 
atmosphere  of  love  and  the  authority  of  worth 
in  the  family. 

"Here  we  are  in  the  cabin,  now,"  Paul  ex- 
plained cheerfully.  A  few  flowers  are  there 
before  them,  with  cards  of  city  clergymen  at- 
tached, for  which  orders,  with  dates,  had  been 
telegraphed  from  Martha's  Vineyard,  and  various 
other  clerical  retreats.  A  sewing  machine  was 
there ;  a  medicine  chest  was  there ;  a  tiny 
library  was  there ;  all  boxed  and  marked  with 
the  names  of  good  ladies  who  had  self-sacrific- 
ingly  asked  their  husbands  for  the  necessary 
checks  to  pay  therefor  —  upon  some  one's  sug- 
gestion that  "it  would  be  a  pretty  thing  to  do." 

This  and  that  official  of  the  Board  had  meant 
to  be  there  and  say,  oh,  ever  so  many  noble 
words  and  heroic  exhortations ;  they  were  gen- 
erally on  the  dock  as  missionaries  departed ; 
for  they  generally  felt  that  they  "needed  the 
fresh  enkindling  of  such  realistic  aspects  of  a 


IN  TROUBLE.  37 l 


vocation,  which  otherwise  was  apt  to  lapse  into 
perfunctary  routine."  But,  alas  poor  gentlemen, 
"detained  in  the  country,  worn  out  with  labors 
and  the  summer's  heat." 

The  Secretary  of  the  Home  Society  was  there, 
his  sterling  heart  alone  more  than  equal  to  a 
host,  and  wearily  conscious  itself  that  it  needed 
to  be. 

Mr.  William  Norcross,  true  man  and  sincere 
Christian,  would  have  been  there,  but  that  he 
was  himself  over  the  seas. 

Stephen  Crane's  parents  and  other  kindred 
would  have  been  there,  but  that  "  he  had  not 
a  relative  on  earth,  so  far  as  he  knew,  —  except 
this  dear  little  wife,  who  clings  to  him  now, 
and  her  kin."  However,  orphan  hero,  since  "we 
are  compassed  about  by  so  great  a  cloud  of 
witnesses "  from  on  high,  who  shall  say  that 
mother  and  father  were  not  there  ?  Quite  likely 
the  mean  little  cabin  was  full  of  beings  invis- 
ible to  mortal  eyes. 

Pastor  Haven's  many  friends  would  have  been 
there,  no  doubt  of  it,  scattered  all  up  and  down 
the  land  as  they  are,  but  that  they  have  "  quite 
lost  sight  of  him  of  late,"  "  As  for  his 
kindred,"  exclaimed  Bella,  "  why,  an  old  man's 
kindred  are  young  people,  if  there  are  any 


372  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

nieces  and  nephews  left  ;  and  it  is  remarkable 
how  easy  it  is  to  forget  an  uncle  who  can 
leave  you  nothing  but  a  white,  clean  name ! " 

"  If  it  had  been  any  other  season  of  the  year," 
Bella  resumes,  chatting  aside  at  Paul,  "  it  would 
have  been  possible  to  hold  farewell  meetings, 
good  brother,  with  organ  peals  and  banks 
of  flowers,  with  exhibitions  of  our  hero  and 
heroine,  to  stir  the  heart  —  and  open  the  purse  — 
for  this  Dark  Continent  Mission  has  been 
much  talked  about  of  late,  papa  says.  And,  for 
that  matter,  it  will  be  much  talked  about  when 
cooler  weather  comes .  and  it  is  time  to  take  the 
collections  again.  It  may  be  necessary  then  to 
draw  on  the  imagination,  a  little,  in  describing 
this  supernal  hour  of  courageous  departure  to 
capture  a  continent,  etc.,  etc." 

"  Hush,  hush,  my  unhappy  sister,"  Paul  was 
in  vain  whispering. 

There  were  a  few  loving  hands  outstretched. 
There  were  certain  godly  women  who  braved  the 
heat,  and  walked,  not  being  the  carriage-owning 
kind.  Some  of  them  had  brothers  or  parents  in 
distant  lands ;  and  they  knew,  you  know.  Others 
of  them  were  greatly  attached  to  one  Jesus  who 
went  about  doing  good ;  and  that  was  their 
motive. 


IN  TROUBLE.  373 


Clang !  clang !  all  ashore.  It  is  their  right  to 
be  alone  now.  Clang!  clang! 

"  Oh,  my  children,  my  children !  My  sweet 
little  Nora,  latest  born  ! "  It  is  the  mother's 
wail  !  How  silent  this  woman  has  been  ;  they 
had  not  heard  her  speak  before ;  had  you  ?  God 
keep  her,  with  her  arms  thrown  about  the 
daughter ;  for,  if  God  does  not  help  her,  she 
will  never  be  heard  to  speak  again  ! 

That  cry  shook  down  every  one's  resolution  to 
be  brave.  The  mother-heart  gave  the  signal  and 
the  whole  group  were  conquered !  There  was  a 
long  silence,  while,  I  have  no  doubt,  God  put 
beneath  her  the  Everlasting  Arms. 

"  Mother  ? "  It  is  Paul  who  is  speaking.  He 
is  trying  to  get  these  two  apart.  That  proves 
difficult,  for  the  child  is  not  simply  going  to 
Venice  for  the  winter. 

"  Mother  ? "  It  is  the  panting  old  clergyman 
who  gasps  it  out  from  his  chair.  "  Mother  ? 
give  her  up  to  sit  in  my  lap  for  a  moment, 
once  more,  will  you  not  ? " 

That   does  it. 

Paul  Havens  has  his  mother  in  his  arms 
now,  as  tenderly  fondled  as  when  her  arms  held 
him. 

Clang !    clang  ! 


374  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"Now  let  us  give  them  up  to  God,"  the  old 
man  murmurs. 

Stephen  Crane  kneels,  tearless  do  you  mark 
it  ?  at  the  pastor's  knee.  Bella  Havens  kneels. 

"Great  God  —  we  give  this  precious  child  up 
to  go  do  for  a  dark  world  what  thy  Son  came 
to  do  for  it — tell  of  thy  love.  Our  children  are 
not  our  own.  Thou  knowest  how  we  love  and 
trust  this  dear  boy,  her  husband," — a  thin  hand 
went  out  to  flutter  over  his  head.  "Now  keep 
them,  O  Christ  !  Thou  knowest  how  we  have 
kept  her  —  ever  —  since  —  ever  —  since  she  — came, 
a  pretty  little  babe " 

It  is  too  much,  sir.  Let  us  sit  in  silence. 
There  must  be  a  Day  after  to-day,  when  such 
cross-bearing  will  be  explained,  in  the  realm  of 
a  Good  God. 

"  We   must   go,   mother." 

"  Yes,  my  son.  Do  not  fear  for  me  now. 
Come,  oh,  my  strength !  I  must,  must  have  it 
—  strength  ?  To  stand  and  watch  them  as  long 
as  the  ship  can  be  seen  from  these  shores ! " 

"  Then  lean  upon  Bella.  No,  Steve,  do  n't  go 
ashore  again.  Stay  with  my  sister,  at  any  rate 
on  deck.  Father  ?  Now,  ready."  Then,  this  to 
Stepen  Crane.  "  Old  friend,  there  is  no  cant  in 
this.  This  comes  pretty  near  being  as  full  a 


IN  TROUBLE,  375 


consecration  as  man  can  make.  But  I  think, 
dear  old  Steve,  this  is  the  happiest,  grandest 
moment  I  ever  lived  !  The  Divine  Favor  is  on 
us.  I  '11  seek  to  be  as  true,  God  helping  me, 
to  the  broken  hearted  of  this  land  as  you  will 
be  to  the  darkened  souls  of  that  land !  Grace 
be  with  thee,  oh  my  sister,  oh,  my  brother ! " 

They  stand  apart  on  the  breezy  pier-head 
these  four ;  on  the  after  deck  those  two.  The 
long,  low  boom  of  the  steam  whistle  moans 
solemnly.  The  cry  of  the  sailor,  blue-coated  and 
gold-leafed  he,  is  the  only  spoken  word  now. 
The  hiss  of  scathing  waters  answering  unto 
power  is  followed  by  the  dreaded  backward  surge 
at  last ;  and  slowly,  wearily,  reluctantly  as 
becomes  her  when  tearing  hearts  asunder,  the 
great  ship  turns  to  the  east.  A  kindly  wind, 
which  flutters  the  cheap  blue  veil  about  sweet 
Nora's  face,  as  she  leans  against  her  husband's 
breast,  would  gladly  carry  for  her  yet  one  word 
more  to  the  group  on  the  pier.  But  it  is  not 
spoken,  for  the  word  itself  is  wanting,  and  could 
not  be  found  in  all  the  many  tongues  that  were 
ever  used  on  earth. 

Neither  do  these  on  the  pier  speak.  And  now 
they  have  no  tears.  But  they  have  faith  and 
joy  unutterable  —  all  save  one.  This  torn,  weary, 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


devoted  home-circle  of  the  humble  preacher, 
breeding  children  to  be  the  food  of  sacrifice  ; 
why  the  staple  of  their  daily  bread  for  years  has 
been,  "TiiY  WILL,  O  GOD,  BE  DONE." 

After  a  season  the  ship  is  but  a  blot  upon 
the  cold  blue  mirror  of  eastern  sky  and  sea, 
and  it  is  time  to  go  home.  Yes,  for  the  sun 
is  low  and  cooler  now.  Yes,  for  the  hack  is 
hired  by  the  hour.  It  is  high  time  to  go  home. 
The  ship  is  but  a  speck  on  the  waste.  We 
must  go  home. 

Home  ?  Why,  yes  —  at  any  rate  it  was  a 
dwelling  place,  if  not  a  home. 


A    CALL.  377 

XX. 

A  CALL. 

1 4  T  HAVE  a  call ! "  cried  Paul  Havens  to  the 
-•-  assembled  household  about  the  next  morn- 
ing's breakfast  table.  "  To-day  I  must  assume 
my  parochial  cares." 

"Your  call!"  replied  Bella,  incredulously.  "I 
had  supposed  that  skillful  and  managing  foe  of 
yours,  Brother  Lemuel,  would  be  able  to  prevent 
any  important  church  of  the  denomination  so 
much  as  looking  at — isn't  that  the  pretty  phrase 
they  use? — looking  at  the  Rev.  Paul  Havens, 
candidate  and  in  waiting  !  " 

"Yet  I  have  it,  and  here  in  Boston,  sis," 
with  a  placating  smile ;  "  and  the  largest  parish 
under  the  care  of  a  single  pastor  in  this  city!" 

"  Despite  the  man ! "  This  Bella,  knife  and 
fork  laid  on  the  table. 

"  Ob,  you  pretty  girl,  do  forget  the  man ! " 
This  Paul. 

"Indeed,  let  us  forgive  and  forget,"  pleaded 
the  benevolent  old  father,  from  his  end  of  the 
board.  "He  must  have  something  good  about 
him.  I  was  reading  that  he  signalized  his 


378  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

daughter's  birthday,  just  before  she  sailed  for 
Europe,  by  a  single  lump  donation  of  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  to  —  what  was  it  to,  mother?" 

"Really  papa,"  Bella  put  in,  "one  may  be 
excused  in  forgetting  what  for.  No  doubt  much 
more  was  said  by  the  good  newspaper  about  the 
giver  than  the  receiver." 

"And  yet  it  will  all  be  found  in  eternity,  my 
dear  child,  to  even  Lemuel  Norcross'  credit." 

"Yes,  dear  sir,  in  the  treasury  over  against  the 
Temple,  along  with  the  widow's  mite." 

"Well,  well,"  Paul  thinks  it  time  to  repeat 
for  peace's  sake;  "notwithstanding  all,  I  have  my 
call.  Why  do  n't  you  ask  about  it  ?  How  much 
salary  I  am  to  get,  and  how  I  like  my  people  ? " 

"  How  much,  then  ? "  asked  Bella,  to  indulge 
this  brother,  whom  she  idolized,  after  all,  in  any 
banter  he  had  on  hand  to  amuse  this  forlorn 
morning.  The  actress,  that  she  was,  how  soon  she 
could  change  from  frowning  to  bewitching  beaming! 
She  seemed,  at  least,  all  glorious  sunlight  now. 

"  How  much  ?  Not  a  beggarly  cent  that  I 
know  of!  I  shall  be  for  once,  father,  like  my 
great  namesake  of  certain  centuries  ago.  My 
own  hands  must  minister  to  my  necessities ; 
though  with  the  figuring  of  my  Florida  terit- 
life,  rather  than  making  tents." 


A    CALL.  379 

"Oh,  you  dear  fellow!"  exclaimed  Bella,  sud- 
denly coming  near  him  and  eagerly  embracing 
him.  "  Then  you  are  going  to  be  sensible  and 
take  the  government's  offer  ?  Five  thousand  a 
year,  and  such  a  pretty  uniform  !  I  knew  you 
had  never  yet  been  —  been  made  a  reverend." 

"  Ordained  ?  No,  sis  ;  it 's  true  I  never  have 
been,  as  yet.  But,"  with  a  knowing  smile 
towards  his  father,  "if  it  will  please  father  that 
I  go  through  that  formality,  I  can  even  yet." 

"  Come,  Paul,"  said  his  sister,  her  face  shad- 
owed again  as  she  bent  on  his  shoulder,  "  no 
more  of  these  enigmas.  Where 's  your  church 
building,  then  ?  " 

"  See  here,  Bella,"  drawing  down  her  face  till 
she  could  look,  as  he  pointed,  under  the  low, 
white  window-curtain.  "  On  that  vacant  lot  to- 
morrow morning,  not  three  minutes'  walk  from 
my  Episcopal  palace,  you  see  a  glowing,  snowy 
canvas  canopy  will  be  spread.  That  for  summer 
at  least.  Doors  open.  Seats  free  ! " 

"  That  is,"  she  added,  in  passing  sympathy 
with  the  heroism  of  it,  "  your  call  reads,  '  Go  ye 
out  into  the  highways  and  hedges  and  compel  them 
to  come  in  that  my  house  may  be  fully  She  re- 
peated the  noble  words  with  fine  effect. 

"A   very   ancient   call,    my   sister." 


3^0  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Yes,  and  once  much  sought  after,  but  of  late 
years,  the  work  being  somewhat  unpoetic,  it  has 
lost  a  trifle  of  its  desirability.  Still,  I  must  con- 
fess, Paul,  considering  who  signed  it,  you  will 
regard  it  as  highly  authoritative.  Oh,  well !  "  with 
a  sigh,  "  so  I  must  give  you  over !  Shoulder 
straps  and  sword,  and  the  five  thousand  a  year. 
I  do  n't  see  but  what  the  actress  is  to  be  your 
main  reliance  yet,  for  a  coach  and  horses,  papa 
and  mamma." 

"  Thirty-five  thousand  people  in  this  ward, 
within  sight  of  the  scarlet  cross  which  will  fly 
the  mizzen-mast ! "  This,  Paul,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Nora's  needle-work !  exclaimed  Bella,  striking 
her  fan  on  her  arm.  "  I  thought  she  was  to  take 
that  to  heathendom." 

"  This  is  about  heathendom,  sis.  Not  a  rival 
church  to  mine  in  the  whole  world ! "  This,  Paul, 
with  gravity. 

"  Night   schools,    no   doubt  ?  "     Beaming   again. 

"And  temperance  meetings,"  said  Paul,  yielding 
to  her  mood. 

"  A  Magdalen  asylum  for  these  young  girls 
who  walk  wantonly,"  she  added,  soberly  and  pity- 
ingly, for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  and  even  a  league  of  these  teamsters 
and  car  drivers  to  prevent  cruelty  to  animals." 


A    CALL.  38l 

"  And  your  favorite,  practical  Christianity,  an 
employment  bureau  !  " 

"  And  a  cup  of  cold  water  from  as  clear  a 
fountain  as  Cochituate  can  spout,  my  dear.  Hur- 
rah ! "  he  cried,  winding  his  strong  arms  about  the 
great  girl,  now  on  his  knee,  with  a  hug  of  boyish 
enthusiasm  that  fairly  compelled  her  into  protest. 

"  Perhaps  you  'd  like  me,  Paul,"  she  remarked 
to  address  your  tent  full  of  women  on  the  sub- 
ject of  wholesome  cooking,  and  thrifty,  economi- 
cal housekeeping.  Just  think  of  me,  doing  that!" 
What  a  silvery  laugh  this  woman  had ! 

"  Indeed,  why  not  ?  A  practical  Yankee  girl." 
said  her  father. 

"  And  a  superb  voice  for  public  address,  with 
some  practice  of  late,"  added  Paul,  taking  her 
seriously. 

"  You  could   first   preach   on   the   text " 

"  Children,    have  ye  any  meat  ? "    he  replied,  pat. 

"Yes,  and  'they  saw  a  fire  of  coals  with  fish 
laid  thereon.'  Our  Lord  was  not  above  that 
cooking,  my  dears,"  suddenly  remarked  Mrs.  Havens, 
yielding  to  the  sunny  aspect  of  things  at  last. 

"  Oh,  brother,  brother ! "  exclaimed  Bella,  re- 
leasing herself  now,  and  standing  meditatively  by 
the  window  while  she  gave  them  her  thoughts, 
"what  days  on  days  you  will  be  obliged  to  spend, 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


going  from  house  to  house,  teaching  sanitary  care, 
pointing  out  filthy  neglect,  kindly  rebuking  care- 
lessness ;  for  God  knows  that  cleanliness  comes 
next  to  godliness,  and  before  it  in  my  judgment." 

"Yes,  I'm  ready,  I  hope,  for  all  that.  My 
idea  of  a  creed  is,  Do  man  any  sort  of  good  that 
is  within  man's  fower.  See  here,  sis,  you  '11  help 
me  at  that  ? " 

"Why,  I  like  that  creed,"  she  answered,  drum- 
ming on  the  window-pane,  a  tempest  rising  in 
her  soul. 

"  Put  it  this  way,  my  lady.  Whatever  Jesus  did 
for  men,  so  far  as  man  can  copy,  do  the  same!" 

"Fresh   air   excursions,   for   instance?" 

"  Why  not  ?  Any  thing.  That 's  in  the  gospel 
story,  across  the  lake,  you  know." 

"  Where   will   you   get   the   money,    sir  ? " 

"The  poor  are  the  friends  of  the  poor.  We 
shall  not  lack  money " 

"  Nor  ever,  ever  have  to  go  fawning  on  the 
rich  Pharisees  for  your  sinews  of  war?"  with  a  sly 
and  not  altogether  pretty  turn  of  her  stately  head. 

"  Well,  there  '11  be  no  three-thousand-dollar 
choirs  to  pay,  Bell.  Come  now.  Do  n't  distill 
any  wormwood  into  your  own  cup." 

"  Ah,  well,  you  go  your  way,  I  '11  go  mine. 
I  '11  address  the  women  for  you,  so  far  as  that 


A   CALL.  383 

goes  ;  but  that 's  all  I  '11  promise  now.  I  long  to 
hear  your  preaching,  my  grand  brother ;  I  '11 
listen  to  that.  I,  who  have  n't  darkened  a  church 
door  since  papa  ceased  to  preach.  Stay ;  I  can 
prophesy  what  you  '11  preach.  It  will  be  novel ; 
or  rather  the  old  come  into  fashion  again.  This 
brilliant  mind  and  loving  heart  —  I  am  serious, 
Paul,  now  you  listen,  please  —  and  this  persuasive 
voice  will  simply  explain  page  after  page  of  that 
everlasting  New  Testament  of  his.  There  will  be 
no  attempt  at  rhetoric.  There  will  be  no  sensa- 
tional themes.  Except,  though,  as  '  Thou  shalt 
not  steal/  '  Thou  shalt  not  covet,'  '  Honor  thy 
father  and  thy  mother,'  with  all  the  rest  are  sen- 
sational. Indeed,  brother  of  mine,  the  plain  incul- 
cation of  all  the  commandments  would  probably 
produce  a  sensation  in  more  exclusive  churches 
than  yours.  As  week  by  week  he  tells  the  story 
of  the  New  Testament  ;  speaking  it  like  fresh 
news  to  a  sorrowing  world ;  omitting  no  verse ; 
evading  no  mystery,  but  confessing  it ;  telling  it 
affectionately,  as  he  has  to  me  in  many  a  walk 
of  late,  and  my  ears  so  unwilling ;  why,  men, 
women,  and  children  will  listen  marvelously.  Be- 
lieve the  actress ;  she  knows  ;  it  is  her  business 
to  study  effects.  Portray  Jesus  Christ,  sir,  as  the 
Great  Physician,  and  men  may  come  to  associate 


3  §4  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Jesus  Christ  with  that  tent — not  Paul  Havens' 
tent,  after  the  manner  of  some  brick  and'  stone 
tabernacles.  Men  may  come  to  think  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  often  as  they  catch  sight  of  Nora's 
red  cross  on  the  pennant !  And  it  shall  seem  as 
if  the  street  and  beaten  paths  up  to  its  doors 
were  frequented  by  the  passing  benignant  form 
of  Jesus  Christ  !  The  sight  of  Paul's  face,  father, 
moving  about  the  simple  neighborhood,  shall  re- 
mind the  people  of  the  passing  Jesus  ! " 

"Bella!  Bella!"  protested  Paul,  though  his 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  as  were  all  eyes,  ex- 
cept the  speaker's,  for  she  had  kindled  quickly, 
and  had  spoken  with  real  eloquence.  But  now 
the  tempest  within  her  was  at  its  height,  and 
her  own  eyes,  too,  were  filling.  She  put  her 
hands  to  her  face  and  left  them,  on  the  instant, 
for  her  attic  room. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  how  busy  this  young 
man  soon  becomes,  reducing  Bella's  prophecy  to 
history.  A  lump  of  leaven  among  five  and  thirty 
thousand.  His  errand,  any  possible  good  that 
man  could  do.  His  strength  returned.  A  fever 
generally  either  kills  or  makes  a  giant  of  a  man. 
He  often  worked  twenty  hours  a  day.  How  he 
thanked  God  for  his  endurance. 

This   queer   preacher,   now   with   health  equal  to 


A   CALL.  385 

the  double  task,  toiled  assiduously  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  medicine.  He  spent  long-  hours  in 
the  hospitals.  The  staff  at  the  Naval  Hospital 
were  warm  friends.  Rapid  and  apt  in  learning, 
he  soon  became  more  popular  with  the  sick 
poor  of  his  "parish,"  than  the  men  of  fees. 
Yet  the  men  of  fees  acknowledged  him  ;  they 
never  dishonored  a  summons,  sent  by  Paul 
Havens,  "  to  visit  the  widow  and  the  fatherless 
in  their  affliction."  His  own  study  of  medicine, 
begun  for  other's  sake,  became  a  pivot  on  which 
his  life  was  almost  tempted  to  another  turning ; 
he  discovered  an  aptitude  for  surgery  in  himself. 
Great  surgeons  are  born  and  not  made. 

"  You  have  inventive  skill,  Doc,"  said  the  sur- 
geon-in-chief  to  him.  "  You  have  developed  in- 
tuition, rapidity  of  movement,  the  mechanical 
habit,  nerve,  and  daring,  Havens.  You  should 
be  a  saw-bones  and  done  with  it ! " 

"  I  have  a  profound  reverence,  sir,  for  the 
human  body,"  Paul  replied.  "  It  is  a  wonderful 
temple!" 

"The  crowning  reason  why  you  would  be  an 
eminent  surgeon,  Havens ! "  rejoined  the  chief. 

But  Paul  would  not  turn  aside ;  no,  not  for 
"inducements,"  though  he  felt  privileged  to 
make  his  services  pay  him  something  at 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


times,  here  and  there,  among  rich  patrons  beyond 
his  parish  limits,  thanks  to  the  other  doctors. 

As  for  the  humble  poor  they  grew  to  glory  in 
this  gentle  giant.  He  was  their  hero.  A  strange 
power  over  them  came  with  their  reverence  and 
gratitude. 

All  this  time  not  a  word  to  or  from  Clara 
Norcross  over  the  seas.  He  was  often  tempted 
to  write  to  her  ;  wondered  that  she  did  not  take 
the  initiative,  for  how  could  he  know  her 
address  ?  He  wrote  a  letter,  and  would  have 
sent  it  on  a  venture,  but  that  very  day  one  of 
the  surgeons  at  the  hospital  accosted  him  with,  — 

"I  say,  Doc,"  I  met  a  friend  of  yours  to- 
day. Norcross.  You  know,  —  brother  to  the 
William  Norcross,  who  founded  the  Ophthalmic 
wing  here,  and  who,  being  in  Europe,  is  repre- 
sented in  some  final  accounts  by  Mr.  Lemuel." 
The  twinkle  in  the  speaker's  eye  might  have 
warned  Paul  not  to  encourage  the  handing  over 
of  Norcross'  message.  But,  being  pre-occupied 
with  the  case  in  hand,  he  answered,  — 

"Oh!     And   what   did   he   say   of   me?" 

"  Well,  to  be  frank  with  you,  his  lordship  con- 
sidered you  a  fraud,  to  be  exposed  here  in 
town  yet  ;  had  heard  of  your  work  of  course, 
as  all  the  town  has." 


A    CALL.  387 

"  Then  I  'm  pretty  well  exposed  already,  I 
fear,"  said  Paul  carelessly,  and  continuing  his 
work  with  the  patient. 

"  But,  I  take  it  the  tidings  are  not  pleasant," 
resumed  the  surgeon.  For  however  independent 
of  the  man  you  may  think  you  are,  yet  who 
can  measure  the  possibilities  of  millions,  my  boy  ? 
A  man  with  millions,  if  he  be  so  disposed,  can 
find  a  tool  for  any  dirty  work  against  your  life 
which  he  may  choose  to  hire  done." 

"  And  the  fee  for  dirty  work  would  not  seem 
to  need  to  be  large,"  Paul  added  gravely,  "if 
one  considered  how  many  dirty  fellows  pass  the 
corner  of  Washington  and  Winter  Streets,  for 
instance,  in  the  procession  of  a  half  day." 

It  was  not  physical  fear,  however,  that  op- 
pressed Paul  Havens,  nor  the  dread  of  any  dis- 
credit which  the  man  might  manipulate  the  press 
to  fling  in  the  air  concerning  his  work ;  though 
Paul  had  great  schemes  in  mind,  and  would  need 
unbounded  public  confidence  by  and  by,  for  their 
furthering. 

It  was  rather  the  oppression  of  hopelessness 
as  regarded  Clara.  Paul's  charity  had  credited 
her  father  with  some  latent  goodness,  some  shred 
of  the  piety  he  so  openly  professed,  and  some 
paternal  tenderness  for  Clara's  weary  heart.  He 


388  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY, 

had  hoped,  in  time,  if  he  showed  himself  a  man 
and  worthy,  that  Lemuel  Norcross  would  see 
him  as  he  really  was. 

But  this  and  other  similar  little  indices  of  a 
powerful  ill-will,  which  was  working  against  him, 
relentlessly  in  the  city,  broke  down  such  human 
hope,  day  by  day.  The  Divine  Favor,  however, 
is  deathless.  He  grew  happy  in  his  work  as 
his  own  life  grew  lonely,  for  he  had  the  Divine 
Favor. 

It  was  winter  again  before  Paul  became  aware 
that  Clara,  with  the  others  of  the  Norcross  party, 
had  returned  from  their  European  trip.  He 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her,  one  afternoon,  sleighing 
down  the  broad  drive  where  wealth  disports  itself 
in  that  gayest  American  winter  city. 

She  did  not  see  him ;  he  felt  sure  of  that. 
And  he  did  not  need  to  look  the  second  time ; 
one  glance  was  like  an  instantaneous  photograph. 
He  held  his  head  away  and  passed  over  the 
drive  on  some  charity  errand  which  employed 
him.  It  was  the  same  wonderfully  beautiful  face. 
He  lived  the  day  through  by  gazing  on  it,  as 
it  was  pictured  anew  in  his  soul.  Yet,  while  it 
made  the  day  glad,  it  made  it  sad,  of  course.  It 
compelled  him  to  his  work  anew,  for  one  moment's 
sight  of  that  face  had  left  life  very  lonely. 


A   CALL.  389 

He  found  himself  scrutinizing  the  face, — seen 
an  instant,  remembered  ever.  It  was  not  happy; 
he  felt  sure  of  that,  though  high  and  exciting 
pleasure  filled  the  avenue,  and  Cousin  Andrew 
held  as  proud  a  rein  as  any  in  the  throng. 
Paul  remembered  how  gleeful,  like  a  child,  Clara 
always  was  when  behind  horses. 

At  evening,  after  tea,  when  the  brother  and 
sister  sat  alone,  Bella  would  often  say,  — 

"They   bowed." 

"  So  they  did  to  me.  But  Andrew  was  more 
gracious,  I  think,  when  you  were  with  me,  sis." 

"  Mr.  William  is  a  genuine  man,  bub.  I  won- 
der he  has  not  noticed  your  work." 

"He  has.  I  was  told  to-day,  at  the  hospital, 
that  had  he  not  found  himself  unusually  busy 
since  returning,  he  would  have  sought  out  the 
young  apostle  to  the  Gentiles.  How  is  that 
for  a  title?" 

"  That  message  means  a  collision  between  him 
and  his  brother ! "  exclaimed  Bella,  promptly. 

"  How   so  ? " 

"  The  iron  will  of  Lem  Norcross  never  bent, 
I  tell  you !  If  William  attempts  to  be  kind  to 
you,  Lem  will  cease  to  ignore  you.  Then  trouble 
begins  anew  for  you,  and  for  his  daughter,  too, 
no  doubt.  Is  it  not  singular,"  Bella  continued, 


39°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

moralizing,    "that   it    is   the    man   whom    you   have 
injured   whom   you   will    seek   to   injure   again  ? " 

"True.  The  injured  party  can  forgive;  the 
injurer,  never." 

"Then,  too,  evidently  you  are  more  in  this 
man's  way,  and  a  heavier  obstacle,  than  ever 
before,"  patting  his  shoulders  proudly. 

As  the  winter  wore  on  these  young  people 
came  to  know  each  others'  respective  dwellings; 
and  there  was  not  a  little  of  furtive  window 
studying.  Paul  Havens  frequently  passed  Clara 
Norcross'  handsome  residence,  nearly  finished  now, 
and  freely  spoke  of  it  to  the  little  home-circle. 
If  he  did  not  mention  it  for  an  evening  or  two, 
Bella,  proud  and  cold  as  ever,  passing  it  daily  on 
her  way  to  and  from  the  theatre,  frequently 
brought  in  some  fresh  scrap  of  information  for 
the  frugal  tea-table. 

"They  are  putting  in  the  most  elegant  French 
plate  glass,  brother  of  mine." 

"  Yes."  Paul  would  smile  good-naturedly  in 
return. 

"  And  I  see  the  ebony-framed  mirrors  are  built 
in  —  almost  as  handsome  as  I  shall  have  one  of 
these  days  !  Think  of  it,  dear  mamma ! " 

But  this  never  brought  a  smile.  Such  refer- 
ences, frequent  and  studied,  clothed  with  cheer 


A    CALL  391 

and  perfumed  with  the  one  remaining  affection 
of  this  haughty  young  spirit,  brought  many  a 
cloud  and  many  a  tear.  Still,  what  could  you 
have  done,  you  most  exemplary  parent  who  are 
reading  this  ?  This  young  actress  was  a  daughter. 

"  Wife,  she  is  the  only  girl-child  left  us,  to 
nurse  our  sick  days,  to  bring  in  sunshine  and  a 
merry  song,"  the  father  often  said.  "  She  is  as 
pure  to-day,  as  artless,  as  lovely  at  home,  —  yes, 
be  sure  we  watch  carefully  enough  to  detect  the 
slightest  assailment,  as  ever  she  has  been  in  all 
her  life."  What  more  could  a  pastor  do,  or  her 
mother,  or  her  brother,  but  pray  ? 

"  Let  her  go  ?  Drive  her  out  ?  "  Paul  would 
ask.  "  No  doubt,  scores  of  good  people  could 
easily  advise  us.  But  not  one  word  will  I  offer 
to  assail  her  art  ;  not  one  !  To  flame  and  flare 
at  Bella  Havens  ?  " 

Then  lose  her  ;  for  this  audacious  and  unhappy 
soul  was  held  by  the  one  gentle  rein  of  home 
love.  How  keen  was  her  tongue,  indulged  in  the 
utmost  refinement  of  irony,  when  she  saw  from 
the  little  cottage  windows  the  faces  of  the  Nor- 
crosses  turned  thither  from  the  driving  avenue ! 

"  They  know  where  we  live,  Paul ;  no  doubt  of 
that.  They  never  pass  here,  on  their  afternoon 
airings,  but  Puss  and  Clara  cast  glances  this  way." 


392  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"No   doubt,"    Paul   answers. 

The  little  house,  as  was  intimated,  could  be  very 
plainly  seen  from  the  drive,  not  ten  rods  away. 

Rail  at  her?  Reproach  her?  Curse  the  theatre, 
that  you  might  subdue  and  reclaim  her? 

"  No,  no,  my-  sister !  "  Paul  said  it  a  hundred 
times  if  he  said  it  once ;  and  did  it,  too,  putting 
his  arms  about  her  —  a  noble  armful,  she  !  "  I 
do  not  believe  in  your  mission.  It  may  be  des- 
tined for  some,  but  a  good  home  is  your  mission, 
sis,"  kissing  her.  "  Some  good  man  will  open 
your  heart  yet  and  find  its  treasures.  Oh,  that 
the  grace  of  Christ  could  first  be  welcomed  to 
take  out  this  bitterness,  my  precious  sister !  But, 
remember,  Bella  Havens,  that  as  long  as  you  live 
and  he  lives,  your  brother  gives  you  his  unstinted 
trust !  "  And  there  was  often  such  pathos  in  his 
tones  that  the  haughty  head  of  the  listener  would 
drop  on  his  shoulder,  while  the  fine  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  My  children,"  the  invalid  pastor  would  add, 
"cling,  cling,  cling  together!  Minister  to  each 
other  without  any  offence.  Bella  will  yet  see  the 
glory  of  God  in  our  poverty  and  straitness. 
When  were 'we  ever  happier  if " 

"Never  mind  the  ifs,  father,"  Paul  says.  "My 
work  is  your  work  continued,  free  and  large.  It 


* 
A   CALL.  393 


grows  every  day,  the  mustard  seed.  As  for 
Nora " 

"Was  there  ever  a  sweeter,  gentler  little 
preacher,"  Bella  breaks  in,  drying  her  eyes,  "than 
that  little  sister  of  —  of  mine,  with  her  precious, 
precious  letters  !  Why,  papa,  she  has  never  said 
one  harsh  word  against  the  theatre  !  I  wish, 
almost,  that  she  would,  for  that  I  could  resist ! 
But  oh,  sirs,  you  two  preachers,  how  that  girl 
writes  about  her  Jesus  !  She  is  ever  telling  me 
of  the  beauty  and  joy  she  finds  in  Jesus!" 
Then  she, —  even  she,  the  self-reliant, —  can  only 
bite  her  red  lips  and  cast  down  her  long  eye- 
lashes tearfully,  while  she  picks  at  the  corner  of 
her  handkerchief  and  moves  away  to  the  window. 

Everybody's  eyes  get  filled  now.  And  a  sacred, 
blessed,  hopeful  silence  ensues,  while  all  the 
others  exchange  significant  glances  and  the  old 
pastor  murmurs  :  —  "  Yes  !  Ye.s.  Blessed  way  ! 
Prince  of  Peace !  He  will  yet  do  it.  The 
promise  is,  'to  you  and  your  children.'" 

So  they  took  Bella's  proffered  earnings  and 
placed  them  in  the  common  treasury.  "  I  am 
beginning  to  earn,  you  see,"  she  said;  "though 
not  largely :  for  they  that  aim  high  must  com- 
mence low,  pay  a  great  price  of  almost  awful 
toil  and  wait  long.  If  you  will  make  the  people 


394  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

laugh  or  please  the  lecherous  with  a  bare  round 
arm,  not  to  say  more,"  somewhat  bitterly  and 
with  a  blush,  "  you  may  earn  much  and  quickly. 
But  if  you  will  interpret  Shakespeare,  for  in- 
stance, you  must  almost  die  of  fatigue  and  star- 
vation to  do  it !  I  some  times  wonder  if  the 
reward  is  worth  the  price ;  not  speaking  of  the 
pecuniary  reward,  which  will  be  weighty,  but  the 
sense  of  personal  satisfaction  with  the  uses  of 
one's  talents,  that  is  supposing  I  had  them." 

"  A  life  spent  interpreting  the  lesser  of  the 
world's  two  books,  Shakespeare,  not  the  Bible. 
I,  too,  wonder,"  replied  her  brother. 

It  was  a  matter  of  surprise,  as  time  passed 
on,  that  Paul  Havens,  becoming  one  of  the  most 
prominent  of  the  younger  philanthropic  workers 
of  the  city,  and  meeting  many  of  the  benevol- 
ent people  engaged  in  the  numberless  depart- 
ments of  charitable  endeavor,  never  met  Puss 
Norcross.  Her  mission  was  a  private  church 
affair  and  located  at  the  North  End,  far  away 
from  him.  Yet  he  was  often  in  that  vicinity ; 
he  even  took  occasion  to  look  in  at  doors  on 
several  occasions,  and  saw  strangers  enough,  but 
no  Miss  Norcross.  Upon  making  bold  to  inquire, 
one  Sunday  afternoon,  the  gentleman  in  charge 
asked  with  some  surprise  in  reply. 


A    CALL.  395 

"  Had  you  not  heard  ?  She  has  been  very  sick 
Came  back  from  Europe  in  a  wretched  nervous 
state.  But  she  is  better  now.  She  will  be  here 
next  Sabbath." 

Ah,  No,  I  had  n't  heard.  And  her  benevo- 
lent father?" 

"  Yes,  we  have  missed  him  very  much  for  a 
year  past,  in  all  our  city  work.  He  has  usually 

been   foremost   in    every    good    thing.       But " 

And  the  gentleman  drew  Paul's  ear  to  hear  a 
whisper — "that  the  firm  is  in  some  financial 
straits !  There  are  ugly  whispers  about  concerning 
the  main  partner,  a  brother,  Mr.  Lemuel  Norcross." 

"No!     You   astonish   me!"  exclaimed    Paul. 

"  Yes.  Fact !  "  was  reiterated  with  that  peculiar, 
sympathizing  smile,  a  smile  of  painful  regret,  of 
course,  with  which  some  times  fellow-Christians  arc 
obliged  to  spread  ill  news  of  each  other.  "  The 
two  gentlemen  are  in  Washington  now,  trying  to 
rig  the  tariff,  or  some  such  thing,  it  is  said." 

Paul  Havens'  heart  ached.  He  remembered 
now  the  Crosston  bookkeeper's  solicitude  upon  the 
occasion  of  the  riots.  Indeed,  he  walked  home 
that  day  recalling  a  great  many  things,  this  and 
that,  which  he  had  thought  about  and  observed. 

However,  Paul  and  Puss  met  in  the  little  North 
End  Mission  the  next  Sabbath.  People  noticed 


396  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

how  frail  she  looked  and  what  palor  was  on  her 
gentle  face  —  till,  of  a  sudden,  all  changed  !  Her 
features  glowed  and  her  step  became  firm  and 
spirited.  She  came  down  the  noisy  aisle  to  meet 
her  visitor,  and  spoke  first,  saying, — 

"This   is   such   a   pleasure !" 

"  Indeed,  gentle  lady,"  said  Paul,  "  I  have  to 
begin  with  apology.  Had  I  only  known  that 
you  were  an  invalid " 

"And  not  engrossed  with  society,  the  reason 
why  I  was  not  here  ?  But  we  have  looked  for  a 
social  call,  Mr.  Havens,"  smiling  sweetly  to  soften 
the  rebuke. 

"  True,  Miss  Norcross.  But,  really  now,  you 
are  fully  aware  of  —  of " 

"I  know.  Uncle  Lem.  He  has,  of  course, 
been  with  us,  while  Clara's  house  is  finishing, 
I  understand  the  delicacy  of  a  sensitive  nature. 
We  will  not  speak  of  that,  come  up  and  sit 
down  with  me,"  and  she  led  the  way  to  the 
rostrum.  "  I  find,"  sinking  into  a  chair,  "  that 
I  am  not  very  strong  yet." 

Then  they  fell  to  conversing  about  her  health, 
her  trip,  her  home,  and  this  "dear  work  here, 
with  these  people, — children  of  sorrow,"  Some 
Sunday  talk,  a  good  deal  Monday  talk.  Then 
the  inevitable  Clara  talk  at  the  end. 


A    CALL.  397 

"I  shall  have  her  here  to  assist  me,  next 
week,  and  hereafter,  I  expect."  How  she  watched 
him  now  ! 

"Will   you?    Here?     This   work?" 

There  was  such  a  pleasure  in  his  face  and 
joy  in  his  tones.  And  again  the  burden  of 
hopelessness  —  or  may  be  it  was  her  nervous 
prostration ;  yes,  that  was  it  —  fell  so  heavily  on 
her  that  she  almost  gave  way  for  a  moment. 
But  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  brave  heart, 
was  it  ?  For  in  another  instant  she  is  rattling 
on,  brilliantly. 

"  Yes,  that  is,  if  her  father  does  not  send  for 
her  to  go  on  to  Washington.  You  know  Clara 
is  devoted  to  her  father.  But  all  winter  the 
dear  girl  has  gone  about  on  my  charity-list 
rounds,  visiting  and  doing  a  world  of  good 
among  the  church  poor.  She  has  even  driven 
down  here  on  some  good  errands  ;  but  I  could 
never  persuade  her  that  she  had  the  gifts  of 
leadership  for  my  place  in  the  mission.  She  is 
what  some  would  call  too  womanly  for  rostrum 
work,  you  know." 

But  to  tell  the  truth,  the  young  gentleman 
was  not  very  certain,  is  not  to  this  day,  just 
what  more  was  said,  there  was  a  good  deal 
more  said,  though  not  about  Clara  Norcross. 


398  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

You  could  not  expect  one  woman,  however 
heroic  and  self-denying,  to  make  the  man  she 
loved  glad  by  talking  so  very  long  about  the 
woman  he  loved,  she  not  being  that  woman. 
Hence,  though  Paul  listened,  entered  into  her 
benevolent  plans,  spoke  to  her  school,  and  followed 
her  form  about  with  his  eyes  as  she  rustled  her 
robes  to  and  fro  doing  this  and  that,  still  it  must 
be  confessed  the  heart  of  the  man  was  elsewhere. 
Clara  Norcross  engaged  in  his  own  kind  of 
work  !  The  sunny,  care-free,  merry-hearted  pet  of 
the  Crosston  mansion  come  to  delve  in  the  shadows 
of  the  city's  poverty !  "  And  loving  it.  Did 
Puss  not  say  Clara  was  happy  and  in  love  with 
the  work  ?  Ah,  if  she  did  not  it  must  still  be 
true.  I  was  not,  I  could  not  have  been  mis- 
taken in  that  generous  nature.  Deep  as  the 
seed !  Rich  as  the  meadow  loam  where  flowers 
grow  unplanted  !  Blame  her  not,  the  sweet  child, 
for  the  pampered  life  which  her  proud  and 
foolish  father  inflicted  on  her.  Oh,  what  a  wife 
she  would  make,  for  me  now !  Not  that  I  would  ask 
my  wife  to  share  my  public  work ;  that  is,  with 
her  hands.  No,  no.  But  think  of  such  a  woman, 
lovely,  ever  bright  and  womanly,  sitting  in  my 
home  to  meet  me  when  I  returned  from  these 
labors  I  have  marked  out  for  myself.  Think  of 


A   CALL.  399 

it,  kind  heaven !  She  there  to  sympathize  with 
me,  she  to  understand  me  that  I  am  not  throw- 
ing life  away  nor  giving  my  strength  for  naught ; 
she  to  enter  into  all  these  perhaps  wild  plans, 
these  revolutionary  plans  of  mine.  Her  husband 
no  ambitious  orator,  no  earner  of  fat  revenues,  but 
a  simple  worker  with  him  who  went  about  doing 
good ! " 

Paul  handed  Puss  into  her  carriage  and  went 
on  his  way.  All  the  week  he  walked  in  a 
dream.  The  old  passion,  which  all  the  world 
knows,  had  him  in  its  complete  control.  The 
philanthropist  was  a  mere  man.  He  could  have 
thrown  the  whole  six  days  away,  to  be  in  next 
Sunday. 

At  times,  however,  he  hesitated.  Was  it  the 
privilege  of  a  high-toned  gentleman  to  seek 
stolen  interviews,  knowing  as  he  did  the  relentless 
opposition  of  the  lady's  father  ?  To  be  sure,  she 
was  a  woman  grown  now,  no  mere  child,  ignorant 
of  the  possible  results  if  they  should  meet  again. 
And  no  doubt  Puss  would  tell  her,  so  that 
Clara's  coming  to  the  mission  next  week  would 
be  with  her  eyes  open.  The  scruple  grew  upon 
him.  There  was  an  indiscretion  about  the  meet- 
ing which  was  exceedingly  offensive  to  this  open 
nature.  Besides,  Paul  Havens  was  made  aware, 


400  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

every  day,  that  he  was  becoming  a  conspicuous 
man,  and  that  it  behooved  him,  often  associating 
with  white-haired  philanthropic  gentleman,  to  "let 
no  man  despise  his  youth." 

When  Sunday  afternoon  arrived,  Paul  did  not 
appear  at  the  North  End  Mission.  As  he  went 
about  other  tasks  he  said  to  himself,  "  No.  She 
herself  will  not  expect  me.  A  young  girl's  first 
duty  is  to  her  parents.  Heaven  help  me,  I  '11 
not  play  the  decoy ! "  He  felt,  too,  that  his 
position  in  life  was  as  dignified,  to  say  the 
least,  as  the  silk  weaver's  with  all  his  millions ; 
some  pride,  of  course ;  we  do  n't  claim  that 
Paul  was  a  saint. 

"  Not  here,"  said  Clara,  glancing  up  to  Puss, 
as  the  session  closed.  "  I  did  not  expect  him, 
my  hero !  Had  I  expected  him  I  doubt  if  I  should 
have  come.  I  tell  you,  cousin,  Paul  Havens 
must  not  be  humiliated  in  our  next  meeting. 
Unless  it  is  accidental,  I  shall  make  the  overture, 
as  I  ought." 

But  their  meeting,  the  first  for  a  long  year, 
was  to  be  accidental.  It  occurred  in  this  wise. 

In  every  great  city  there  are  "  best  circles " 
and  "best  circles."  There  are  the  "old  fam- 
ilies," into  whose  circle  no  parvenue  of  a  recent 
wealth,  however  great,  can  come.  There  are 


A  CALL.  401 

the  opulent  parvenues  themselves,  who  charge  an 
admission  fee  of  certain  millions.  There  is  no 
end  of  exclusive  sets,  founded  on  all  sorts  of 
corner-stones ;  that  you  know.  And  you  may 
know  that  there  are  people  of  such  genuine 
piety,  unostentatious,  quiet,  and  of  real  worth, 
whose  employment  is  benevolence,  whose  recrea- 
tions are  Christian  deeds,  into  whose  "circle" 
the  humblest  may  be  admitted  on  the  passport 
of  a  true  heart  and  the  promise  of  usefulness ; 
and  from  whose  "  circle "  the  wealthiest  and 
the  most  famous  would  be  barred  if  he  had  only 
wealth  or  fame  to  offer. 

Perhaps  the  very  "best  circle"  of  the  city 
was  made  up  of  certain  earnest  Christian  men 
and  women  who  clustered  about  Mr.  William 
Norcross.  Out  of  this  great  city  perhaps  a 
hundred  such  people  had  been  called  in  the 
passage  of  a  score  of  years.  Many  times  that 
number  formed  this  fringe  of  this  cloth  of  gold. 
But  the  golden  threads  were  not  many.  They 
had  come  to  know  each  other  in  many  a  hard 
struggle  against  the  foes  of  human  happiness. 
They  were  of  all  denominational  names,  eccle- 
siastically considered.  Most  of  them  were  of 
great  wealth,  or  had  been  at  some  period  of 
their  lives,  though  subsequent  poverty  expelled 


402  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

no  one  once  tried  and  found  true.  To  touch 
this  body  of  people  was  to  touch  the  heart  of 
Boston.  It  is  so  in  every  city.  When  these 
people  moved,  armed  with  the  right,  even  the 
newspapers  bowed  —  and  what  more  can  be 
said  ? 

A  "  parlor  meeting "  of  these  people  had  been 
collected,  one  April  evening,  at  the  spacious  resi- 
dence of  ex-Governor  Blank.  It  had  been  in- 
tended to  call  the  conference  at  Mr.  William 
Norcross'  house,  but  that  the  "  Washington  busi- 
ness made  that  beloved  gentleman's  presence 
uncertain,"  the  ex-governor  explained,  balancing 
himself  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  on  which  he 
leaned.  "  However,"  he  was  "  happy  to  say  that 
good  brother  is  with  us,  notwithstanding."  The 
ex-governor,  being  a  fervent  secretary  of  the  clear 
old  r,ort,  "  brothered  "  every  body. 

It  was  a  most  brilliant  assemblage,  ladies  and 
gentlemen  conspicuous  by  dress,  and  conspicuous 
by  the  absence  of  it,  young  and  old.  There 
were  ranks  of  chairs,  filling  room  after  room, 
and  ranks  re-duplicated  by  mirrors,  till  it  seemed 
a  most  imposing  presence.  It  is  not  to  be  de- 
nied that  adventurers  were  there,  also ;  a  soldier 
of  fortune  would  almost  pawn  his  sword  to  be 
admitted.  Heaven  alone  can  always  detect  the 


A   CALL.  403 

masked  man  or  woman.  Lemuel  Norcross  was 
there  ;  his  brother  had  often  dragged  him  into 
such  society ;  and  he  had  been  admitted  on  the 
card  of  kinship.  Afterwards  William  had  made 
him  pay  for  it.  That  was  right ;  the  good  brother 
worked  tirelessly  with  the  hard  brother  to  save 
him  from  his  selfishness.  And,  from  one  motive 
or  another,  Lemuel  Norcross  had  given  away 
much  mopey ;  we  never  have  denied  that  fact. 

The  object  of  the  meeting  was  to  consider  the 
old,  old  theme :  "  The  moral  condition  of  Boston ; 
the  increase  of  ~rime,  vagrancy,  and  street-beg- 
ging, etc."  Nothing  new,  except  that  Paul  Ha- 
vens was  to  address  the  company.  In  one  year 
he  had  reached  the  heart  of  the  city !  This  old, 
good  heart  of  the  city,  ever  beating  kindly ;  often 
weary  ;  never  ceasing  its  throb ;  and  welcoming 
warmly  this  fresh  drop  of  blood :  "  a  young  and 
earnest  man,  who  has  shown  that  he  has  new 
ideas,  and  a  strong  philanthropy."  So  the  chair- 
man put  it. 

Clara  Norcross  sat,  hand-in-hand  with  Puss,  by 
the  end  of  the  piano,  when  Paul  got  to  his 
feet,  and  not  ten  feet  away  from  him.  In  the 
seated  throng  she  had  not  noticed  him,  nor  was 
it  known  generally,  certainly  not  by  these  ladies, 
who  was  to  "  talk  to  the  meeting." 


404  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


EXTRACTS     FROM     A     DIARY. 
Dated  "  COM.  AVE.,  in  my  room,   midnight^   April  12.   18 — 

"  I  had  not  seen  his  face  before  for  many  a 
long  day.  Studying  it,  I  scarcely  heard  a  word 
he  said  for  some  minutes.  What  a  surprising 
honor !  Paul  Havens  here !  He  talking  to  the 
soul  of  this  most  conservative  city  !  Both  Puss 
and  the  writer,  two  women  who  were*  contrasts 
in  every  other  sense,  were  alike  in  this,  I  am 
sure,  their  whirlwind  of  emotion,  their  fixed  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  Yet,  they  sat  clinging  hard  at 
each  other's  hands  concealed  in  the  folds  of 
their  velvets.  The  writer  watched  his  hands  work 
off  their  nervousness  on  the  back  of  his  chair ; 
she  saw,  delighted,  the  passing  away  of  the  hes- 
itating breathings,  and  the  rising  tide  of  self- 
command  and  conscious  power.  She  knew  when 
he  had  forgotten  himself  —  oh,  most  blissful  hour 
to  the  orator,  always  !  —  and  was  lost  in  his 
theme.  She  saw  that  strange  marriage  of  cool- 
ness and  ardor,  of  ice  and  fire,  the  fine  cherr- 
istry  of  oratory.  She  saw  "that  supreme  play  of 
mind,  whereby  all  that  a  speaker  ever  read  or 
thought  upon  a  given  subject,  comes,  no  doubt, 
like  a  troop  of  slaves,  ready  for  his  tongue ;  and 
she  noted  the  grace  of  extempore  words,  fairer 


A    CALL.  4°5 

than  any  studied  grace  can  ever  be !  She  saw 
the  flash  of  new  thoughts,  and  the  speaker's  lux- 
ury in  them.  Can  there  be  any  other  luxury  to 
be  compared  with  it ! " 

"  It  was  the  eloquence,  not  of  declamation,  but 
of  the  most  dignified  conversation.  The  speaker's 
nearness  to  his  hearers  almost  revealed  each  fine 
movement  of  his  soul.  There  was  no  place  for 
artificiality.  His  sincerity  enriched  his  features 
and  transformed  them,  before  their  very  eyes. 
For  my  part,  I,  Clara  Norcross,  poor  little  ninny, 
grew  breathless  under  the  spell.  If  old  men  all 
about  me,  leaned  forward  and  hung  upon  his 
speech,  if  stronger  women  were  hushed  in  deep- 
est sympathy,  what  shall  I  say  of  Puss  and  my- 
self? Yes,  poor  Puss.  Then,  I  knew  how  you 
idolized  him.  And,  somehow,  I  did  not  hate  you 
for  it,  either." 

"  At  one  time,  the  audience  drawing  the  long 
breath  that  a  spell-bound  audience  at  instances 
does,  I  just  nodded  my  head  to  denote  the  direction 
in  which  Puss  was  to  look  and  whispered, — 

"'See!    His   father   and   mother!' 

" '  Yes,'  was  Puss'  reply,  '  and  see,'  with  a 
little  nod  to  the  left,  '  your  father's  face ! ' 


4°6  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Which  gave  me  a  great  shock.  For  poor, 
unhappy  papa's  face  was  —  was  not  pleasant  to 
look  upon." 

"It  was  not  until  almost  the  close  of  Paul's 
address,  the  modest  history  of  his  work  being 
done,  his  theories  propounded,  and  at  last  he 
came  to  his  appeal  to  Christ -like  motives, 
that  his  eyes  ventured  to  meet  my  own.  Mine  ? 
Yes,  surely  mine,  though  the  other  pair  of  eyes 
were  just  at  my  left.  Once  met,  our  gaze  never 
parted  till  he  had  finished.  He  was  talking  to 
me !  He  pleaded  and  persuaded  but  one  heart. 
He  kindled  to  a  fervor  and  spoke  with  a  tender- 
ness far  beyond  his  previous  mood  ;  and  like  oil 
on  flame,  that  fact  lent  a  wonderful  power  to 
his  final  words.  I  hoped  he  might  never  cease, 
but  hold  me  forever  in  that  strong  enchantment. 
And  oh,  if  he  had  but  felt  as  reluctant  to  close 
and  yield  up  the  satisfaction  which  might  have 
fed  his  hungry  heart  through  my  fixed  eyes ! 

Havens  surely  did  close  abruptly,  and,  even 
amid  the  applause,  pressed  his  way  directly  to 
Clara's  side.  She  arose  and  gave  him  both  her 
hands  in  the  old  way.  There  was  a  burst  of 
music.  There  was  a  throng  about  him.  He  was 
bowing  and  blushing  under  distinguished  compli- 


A   CALL. 


ments  and  offering  his  left  hand  to  distinguished 
men.  He  exchanged  hands  with  Clara,  confused 
by  his  error,  but  not  annoyed  and  not  to  be 
crowded  away  from  her  side.  The  buzz  of  con- 
versation mingled  with  'the  music.  A  breath  of 
cool  air  invited  them  out  of  doors.  Holding  her 
hand  still,  like  country  children  romping  a  field, 
he  led  her  through  the  hall,  out  of  the  press 
of  people  and  honors.  He  managed,  through  a 
servant,  to  secure  her  cloak  and  his  overcoat, 
with  his  hat.  She  threw  over  head  some  pretty 
white  woolen  thing,  which  Puss  managed  to 
smuggle  into  her  hands,  snatched  from  her  own 
shoulders  by  the  way,  the  invalid,  and  out  into 
the  grounds  the  two  lovers  passed. 

The  cool  of  a  brilliant  April  evening  was  on 
them.  But  her  cheeks  were  hot  enough  ;  he  said 
as  much,  and  had  proved  it,  too,  almost  as  soon 
as  he  had  spoken. 

"  And  yours,  my  dear  sir,  are  not  icy,"  she 
replied,  putting  up  her  soft  touch  to  make  more 
sure.  And  she  gave  a  little  spring  as  if  her 
glad  feet  must  skip,  as  she  came  close'  under  his 
broad  shoulder. 

"  This    is   all   very   wrong,    Clara." 

"  No  doubt,  Paul.  Yet  we  could  not  help  it, 
could  we,  after  a  whole  year  ?  " 


408  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  Not   if   we   die   for    it !  " 

In  an  instant  the  strong  resolutions  they  had 
made  to  bravely  live  apart,  became  as  soft  as 
the  April  haze  that  floated  up  from  the  distant 
marshes.  The  April  haze  floated  up  to  play  with 
the  moon-beams,  to  entangle  granite  steeples  and 
stony  tower  in  cobweb  harness,  and  to  take  the 
shape  of  lovers'  castles. 

He  drew  her  radiant  face  into  the  cold  light 
and  talked  to  it.  It  was  the  bursting  of  a  tor- 
rent. He  told  the  face  that  he  had  done  his 
best  to  forget  it,  to  live  as  a-Kempis  lived,  but 
he  could  not !  He  was  no  great  philanthropist, 
no  mighty  reformer.  He  was  "  but  a  hungry, 
starving  village  lad,  fainting  for  this  village  lass." 
He  had  had  "  no  dream  of  this  meeting  when  he 
came.  But  it  was  God's  kind  will,  this  meeting. 
Now  that  he  had  met  her,  now  that  he  held  her  face 
and  it  was  still  true,  he  would  pawn  all  his 
evening's  honors  to  keep  it,  the  face.  What  evil 
had  they  done  ?  How  could  it  be  written  on 
high  that  they  should  live  apart  ?  Who  said  it  ?  " 

The  man  shook  like  one  palsied  as  he  held 
that  face  and  talked  himself  out  to  it. 

The   face  was   its   own   answer. 

They  shortly  started  into  a  brisk  walk,  up  and 
down  the  hard  paths  of  the  garden,  saying  many 


A   CALL.  409 

things  ;  walking  more  briskly  yet,  for  the  raw  east 
wind  began  to  come  up  over  the  city,  fresh  from 
the  sea,  and  plaitings  of  cloud  were  formed  of 
the  April  mist.  By  the  time  they  re-entered  the 
mansion  a  chill  was  in  their  bones.  A  storm 
was  drawing  nigh. 


4J0  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


XXI. 

HAVENS   AND   NORCROSS. 

r  I  ^HE  following  morning,  in  the  striking  proxim- 
-*-  ity  of  adjoining  columns,  the  newspapers 
bore  for  head-lines  the  names  HAVENS  and 
NORCROSS.  The  two  columns  took  all  the  eyes 
the  town  had,  and  suffered  certain  scores  of 
other  human  beings,  about  whom  less  important 
"  news "  had  been  scraped  together,  to  escape 
unobserved.  For  I  take  it  that  most  of  "  the 
news"  in  an  interesting  copy  of  a  morning 
journal  is  torture  to  those  whose  private  affairs 
are  thus  served  up  for  the  rest  of  us ;  and  all 
the  Non-Havens,  Non-Norcross  dramatis  persona 
of  that  next  day's  press  were  glad,  and  skulked 
away  off  the  stage  in  holiday  mood,  Yet 
curiously,  if  your  name  was  Havens — as  Bella's 
was  —  and  it  was  your  bread  and  butter  to  be 
head-lined  in  the  papers,  —  as  it  was  Bella's,  — 
for  nothing  short  of  love  or  money  could  you 
have  been  printed  large,  as  Bella's  brother  and 
his  foe  were.  If  you  want  to  get  into  the 
papers,  the  printer's  satanic  genius  will  keep 


HAVENS  AND  NO RC ROSS.  41 1 

you  out.  If  you  do  n't  want  to  get  in,  the  same 
maladroit  spirit  will  not  suffer  you  to  keep  out. 
For  that  matter,  neither  Paul  Havens  nor 
Lemuel  Norcross  read  the  papers  the  next  morn- 
ing with  any  quiet.  To  Paul,  at  least,  it  was 
like  going  clown  Washington  Street  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, the  sensitive  fellow;  yes,  and  without  a 
hat,  and  hearing  every  body  say,  with  pointing 
fingers,  "That  's  young  Havens.  How  much  will 
he  measure  across  the  back  ?  Wears  odd  kind 
of  suspenders,  do  n't  he  ?  "  The  publicity  which 
the  honorable  and  glowing  report  of  last  night's 
"distinguished  gathering"  gave  him;  the  first 
sight  of  the  cold  short-hand  report  of  his  words, 
wherein  he  had  laid  his  very  heart  open  to  the 
world;  and  what  men  said  about  that  heart, 
dissecting  it,  however  respectfully,  yet  a  dissect- 
ing; and  the  awful  load  of  public  expectation 
so  suddenly  setting  down  on  a  young  fellow, 
who  really  had  never  dreamed  of  any  thing  but 
going  about  his  own  business  unobserved  and 
unpraisecl,  except  by  his  own  heart ;  all  this 
made  his  hand  shake,  you  may  believe,  as  he 
held  the  paper.  Add  to  that  the  hour  with 
Clara  in  the  governor's  garden,  the  review  of 
which  had  kept  him  awake  all  night,  trying  to 
decide  whether  or  not  he  should  go  boldly, 


412  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

risking  all  the  humiliation  of  refusal,  and  ask 
her  father  again  for  the  dear  girl. 

"  Give  the  paper  to  me,  little  boy,"  cried  Bella 
Havens,  in  high  spirits,  noticing  his  agitation.  "I'm 
used  to  publicity, — or  hope  to  be,  you  know." 

She  took  the  sheet  and  read  the  long  account 
clear  through,  amid  a  grateful  hush  of  the  small 
home  room,  and  the  smoke  of  an  obstinate 
cooking  stove  at  one  side  of  the  table, — for 
the  wind  was  east,  and  bad  flues  felt  it ;  the 
storm  was  on. 

"  Hurrah !  Hurrah  ! "  in  softest  silver  cheer, 
so  that  the  family  up-stairs  could  not  hear, 
exclaimed  the  girl,  waving  the  paper  prettily. 
"  The  family  name  is  out  at  last,  gentle  people ! " 

"God  help  my  dear  boy!"  said  the  pastor, 
through  his  tears. 

Paul's  mother  said  nothing.  It  was  not  nec- 
essary. Over  and  over  again  the  eyes  of  mother 
and  son  met  and  told  their  own  story. 

"  Why,  what  is  this  ? "  It  was  an  unfeigned 
sensation,  though  rather  too  eager  to  denote 
pain,  from  Bella's  lips  as  she,  dreaming  over 
the  Havens  column,  suddenly  saw  the  Norcross 
column  right  at  its  side.  But  you  would  have 
overlooked  it,  too,  reader,  had  your  name  been 
Havens.  "  Well,  well !  Dear,  dear !  A  news- 


HAVENS  AND  WORCROSS.  4*3 

paper  is  like  a  thunderstorm — you  can  never 
tell  what  moment  the  next  crash  will  come. 
Hum — hum.  I  declare!"  and  so  she  went  on 
devouring  the  tidings,  like  the  hungry  lightning 
to  which  she  had  just  referred. 

The  family  regarded  her  in  silent  and  deep 
expectation,  as  she  folded  her  arms  and  bent 
over  the  sheet  spread  across  her  knee.  They 
saw  her  dark  eyes  flash.  They  saw  the  color 
mount  high  in  her  face.  They  saw  the  rich  lips 
part  and  the  pearl  white  teeth  shut  hard.  They 
saw  the  breast  heave,  and  the  foot  that  was 
crossed  swing  nervously  its  heel  against  the 
chair.  They  saw  a  cold,  cruel,  exultant  smile 
beam  out,  like  sunshine  on  wintery  hills,  beau- 
tiful, dreadful ! 

What  is  it,  daughter?"  asked  the  pastor,  "we 
have  not  had  family  prayers  yet."  He  sat  with 
the  Bible  open  in  his  lap. 

"Wait  a  moment"  was  all  the  reply  they 
could  get  from  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Do  tell  me  ! "  demanded  the 
mother. 

"  Ah,  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  after  all,  I 
guess  !  "  escaped  through  her  teeth. 

"  Come,  Bella,  do  tell  us  something  !  Have  n't 
you  read  enough  to  impart  a  scrap  ? "  asked  Paul. 


4H  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"  Once  are  the  righteous  avenged,  at  least !  " 
the  beautiful  teeth  said,  though  the  eyes  could 
not  spare  a  glance. 

There  was  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  wait  in 
silence.  Till  at  last,  rising  to  her  feet,  majestic, 
matchless,  beautiful,  yet  oh,  so  unlovely,  this 
long  suffering  daughter  of  the  parsonage  flung 
up  her  arm  high,  rustling  the  paper  like  a 
banner  of  triumph,  saying,  — 

"  Lemuel  Norcross  is  a  beggar  and  probably  a 
defaulter  !  " 

"In  one  night?  Impossible!"  This,  from  Paul 
up-sprung. 

"  Punished,  and  by  his  own  hand  !  "  This  from 
the  actress. 

"What!  Dead?"  He  was  hoarse.  He  was 
reaching  up  for  the  journal. 

"  Oh,  no.  Not  dead,  perhaps.  He  will  live,  I 
trust,  to  suffer  his  just  deserts."  Bella  still  kept 
the  precious  paper  high  up. 

"  Girl !  Come,  out  with  it,  or  give  it  me ! 
I  saw  him  last  night,  and  he  appeared  as  usual. 
You  would  say  he  did,  father  ? " 

"That  may  be,"  Bella  resumed.  "But  this  is 
an  interview  with  a  very  wealthy  silver  miner, 
ex-Senator  Nevada,  and  his  son,  too,  I  believe," 
offering  to  make  sure.  "  Yes.  It  seems  that  for 


PIAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  4T5 

a  year  or  two  these  gentlemen  have  been  credi- 
tors of  our — our  pious  friend,  dear  Mr.  Norcross. 
They  worked  the  tariff  to  shield  him,  or  bridge 
him  over,  a  year  ago.  But  this  session  the  tariff 
was  changed.  Then  Mr.  Norcross  behaved 
unkindly,  indeed,  quarreled  with  these  devoted 
friends  of  his.  They  naturally  insisted  on  their 
rights,  and,  being  neither  clergymen  nor  women, 
got  their  rights,  or  nearly  got  them  ;  when  lo  ! 
the  good  Mr.  Norcross'  affairs  are  found  to  be 
all  honey-combed  with  irregularities.  Not  thefts, 
the  street  says,  but  irregularities." 

"Where    is    he?"    asks    Paul. 

"  Norcross  ?  To  be  sure  ;  where  is  he  ?  "  was 
Bella's  reply,  as  she  flung  the  paper  over  to  her 
brother  and  laughed,  not  loud,  but  exultantly. 
"  That  's  what  the  interviewers  want  to  know ; 
could  n't  be  found  at  a  late  hour  last  night  ; 
his  side  of  the  story  not  told.  Heigho ! 
Where  is  he  ?  I  'd  like  to  look  on  his  grave 
and  troubled  face  myself — at  a  distance!" 

"  Oh,  my  poor  child  ;  my  precious,  beloved 
child  ! "  sobbed  Mrs.  Havens,  her  emotion  being 
a  commingling  of  shock,  sympathy  with  "  poor, 
dear  Sister  Norcross,"  and  a  sort  of  terror  at 
the  pitiable  sight  of  Bella's  cruelty  and  vengeance. 

"Poor   heart!"     It   was  the   tremulous   tones  of 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


the  clergyman.  He  half  rose  to  his  tottering 
feet,  and  grasping  his  daughter's  skirt,  drew  her 
towards  him,  sinking  back  into  his  chair.  As 
she  yielded  to  him,  resting  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair,  —  he  could  not  have  supported  her  weight, 
—  he  began  stroking  her  locks  back  from  the 
noble  forehead,  in  silence.  The  tears  rolled  down 
his  cheeks  like  rain.  His  eyes  were  closed. 
His  lips  gave  now  and  then  the  slightest  move- 
ment. Bella  needed  not  to  be  told  that  he  was 
engaged  before  the  throne  of  Infinite  Mercy, 
for  her,  for  Paul,  for  Clara,  for  the  old  church 
at  Crosston,  and  for  the  once  honored  parishioner. 

Paul  sat,  bent  over  the  newspaper,  gathering 
the  light  from  the  mean  window  and  the  dark, 
stormy  day.  The  day  grew  darker,  and  the  storm 
heavier  without.  Rising  now,  with  stony  resolu- 
tion on  his  face,  he  reached  for  his  coat  and 
hat,  then  bethinking  him,  he  turned  to  his  father 
with,  "  At  once,  if  you  please,  sir  !  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  was  the  response.  "Family  devo- 
tions before  you  go." 

Then  he  read  the  ancient  precept,  of  which 
no  man  lives  long  in  this  world  without  being 
in  sore  need,  beginning,  "  If  thine  enemy  hunger, 
feed  him;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  to  drink."  After 
that,  the  prayer  ;  and  such  a  prayer  !  Had  it 


HAVENS  AND  NO RC ROSS.  41 7 

come  to  the  ears  of  the  wretched  Norcross  him- 
self it  might  have  been  like  oil  on  raging  seas,  to 
give  momentary  peace  to  his  agony  and  shame. 

Straight  to  the  mansion  in  Commonwealth 
Avenue ;  without  a  moment's  hesitation  now. 
As  Paul  Havens  pulled  the  bell,  as  the  impas- 
sive hall-man  opened  to  him,  as  venerable  Wil- 
liam Norcross  stepped  quickly  into  the  vestibule, 
silently  extending  his  hand  ;  as  the  ladies  of  the 
house  glanced  up  at  him  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  curtained  room,  removing  handkerchiefs  from 
tearful  faces,  —  he  felt  sure  of  his  welcome. 

"  Among  true  friends,  there  is  no  etiquette  of 
sympathy  in  sorrow,"  Paul  said.  "  One  may 
offer  whatever  his  heart  prompts ;  therefore,  I 
am  here,  dear  friends." 

"  God  witness  that  we  are  glad  you  have  come, 
Paul,"  said  William  Norcross,  ashen  pale,  bowed 
down,  and  with  that  aged  look  which  every 
body  has  remarked  as  the  result  of  sudden  misery. 
As  he  sunk  into  his  chair,  he  groaned,  "Ter- 
rible !  Terrible  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear  sir ;  God  himself  can  not  help 
knowing  that.  Terrible  !  But  his  grace  —  you 
know."  Paul  had  seated  himself  at  the  old  gentle- 
man's side. 

A   nod   of   the   head    was   the   only   reply. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


The  truest  comforter,  in  almost  any  trouble, 
takes  your  hand  with  a  world  of  meaning,  but 
attempts  little  speech  and  expects  little.  This 
trouble,  however,  was  not  like  death.  There  is 
none  like  this  trouble.  It  is  Disgrace,  the  true 
king  of  terrors.  Silence  ?  What  could  any  one 
say  ?  There  was  little  weeping.  The  instinct  is 
hiding,  to  escape  out  of  the  rays  of  the  sun,  or 
lamp,  or  glance  of  even  a  friend's  eye  ;  to  be  hid 
from  all  the  world. 

'  Paul  glanced  round  on  the  hidden  faces  of  the 
room,  and  waited.  Where  was  she  ?  Perhaps 
soon  to  descend  from  her  chamber.  He  waited, 
holding  the  cold,  still  hand  of  this  agonized 
Christian  gentleman,  who  had  treated  all  human 
kind  with  justice  and  mercy  all  his  years. 

After  a  decent  interval,  as  she  did  not  appear, 
Paul  asked,  — 

"Where  is  Clara?" 

All  faces  uncovered  now  ;  and  staring  pityingly 
and  surprised  upon  him. 

He  sprung  to  his  feet,  fairly  demanding,  — 

"  Where  is  Clara  —  my  —  his  daughter  ? 

"  My  poor  boy,"  tremulously  answered  Mr.  Nor- 
cross,  with  some  faint  purpose  of  attempting,  now, 
compassion  in  his  turn  ;  "  we  do  not  know." 

"Do  not  know!"    Oh,  for  power  to  write  a  tone! 


HAVENS  AND  NO RC ROSS.  4J9 

"  She  has  disappeared  with  —  gone  after,  of 
course,  we  think  —  you  know  how  she  loved  her 
unhappy  papa ! " 

"When?" 

"  Early  this  morning,  my  dear  fellow.  He  left 
a  note  for  her  alone,  saying  she  would  never  see 
him.  again.  You  understand  that  some  reporters 
undertook  to  interview  poor  Lem  round  at  the 
governor's  before  we  left ;  he  took  alarm,  came 
home  very  much  agitated,  went  to  his  room,  then 
went  out  on  pretext  of  —  of  —  we  are  unable  to 
agree  as  to  what  his  pretext  was." 

"  But  Miss  Clara  ? "  reiterated  Paul. 

"  She  must  have  sat  long  in  her  room  also. 
I  doubt  if  she  had  undressed.  She  had  been 
writing  —  and  about  you,  too,  my  dear  fellow  — 
pardon  us  for  reading,  for  we  were  searching  for 
clues.  Here  is  her  diary,  with  accounts  of  last 
evening's  meeting."  And  therewith  the  girl's 
uncle  handed  Paul  the  little  book,  into  whose 
pages  the  reader  has  been  permitted  to  look. 

Paul  eagerly  took  the  diary  and  was  on  the 
point  of  opening  it,  when  he  suddenly  bethought 
himself,  and  returned  it  with,  "  Have  you  been 
to  the  store  ? " 

"Young  man,"  gravely  replied  Mr.  Norcross, 
"we  have  turned  the  key  in  the  store  door. 


420  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY 

Every  thing  is  gone  by  the  board  !  I  know  now 
that  two  weeks  ago  my  unhappy  brother  de  — 
misled  me.  All  is  over  with  the  firm,  I  fear ! " 

"  But,  sir,  we  must  bestir  ourselves " 

"  We  have  sent  Andrew  to  employ  every  pos- 
sible agency  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  my 
brother  and  his  child.  All  our  efforts  are  now 
concentrated  on  that." 

"  And,  oh,  Paul  Havens,"  suddenly  exclaimed 
Puss,  "  do  help  us  to  find  them  before  it  is  too 
late !  "  She  was  standing  with  her  pleading  hands 
clasped  and  outstretched  towards  the  young  man. 
"  Each  of  us  children,  Minnie,  Andrew,  and  I, 
have  property.  I  am  sure  we  are  what  might  be 
called  rich.  I  have  property.  It  was  given  long 
ago.  Take  all,  all  of  mine  !  Only  save  uncle  from 
—  from  doing  some  dreadful  thing  with  himself!" 

"  You  grand  young  man,  go  !  My  husband  is 
utterly  prostrate.  Andrew  is  inexperienced,  I  fear 

inefficient,  though,  dear  boy what  is  it,  dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  William  Norcross  was  the  speaker  ;  she  sat 
fanning  Clara's  wretched  mother,  and  suddenly 
broke  off  her  speech  to  catch  the  meaning  of  a  sigh. 

Paul  was  on  the  street  before  he  knew  it. 
Before  he  knew  it  he  had  opened  the  door  cf  a 
carriage,  waiting  at  the  horse-block.  He  opened 
his  hand :  it  contained  a  roll  of  bills ! 


HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  421 

"She  must  have  given  me  that,  noble  Puss 
Norcross." 

"  Where  will  you  go,  sir  ? "  It  was  the  family 
coachman's  question. 

Sure    enough,    whither? 

Sometimes  the  mind  acts  automatically ;  it 
thinks  for  itself,  and  your  volition  waits  in  at- 
tendance. In  such  moments  the  mind,  like  the 
feet,  runs  back  to  familiar  paths,  thinking  in  the 
familiar  channels  of  boyhood. 

"  To   the   Boston   and    Lowell    Depot." 

Why  he  gave  that  order  he  could  never  say, 
except  that  he  was  recalling  dear,  old,  happy, 
Crosston  days,  before  these  miseries. 

On  the  way  to  the  station  calm  reflection  con- 
firmed him.  All  that  the  city  police  agencies 
could  do  of  course  Andrew  would  cause  to  be 
done ;  it  would  be  his  first  recourse.  But  no  one, 
perhaps,  would  think  of  Crosston. 

"  A  fox,    pursued   and   frenzied   by    hounds,-   will 

travel   in  a  circle  and    return   at    last    to    its    den," 

• 
thought      Paul.         "  So     will      this     crazed      man. 

Driver?"    consulting     his     watch,     "faster!       Like 
the   wind  !     The   noon   train    north  !  " 

A  car  driver  recognized  Paul,  and  pulled  off  a 
reverent  cap  to  him.  Paul  had  served  the  man 
at  the  tent. 


422  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"You   run   all   night?" 

"Yis,    your   riverence." 

In  a  brief,  cool,  accurate  word  Paul  described 
Clara  and  her  father. 

"I  saw  'em,  sir!  Thought  strange  of  sech  nice 
people  in  a  car  at  midnight  and  it  rainin'.  Said 
to  the  conductor,  them 's  carriage  folks.  It  was 
the  Montreal  express,  your  riv " 

Paul  dashed  into  the  station,  caught  at  the  fly- 
ing rail  of  a  car.  His  foot  slipped  on  the  slimy  step. 

"  My  God  !  He  's  under  the  wheels  !  "  It  was 
a  shout  of  many  voices. 

But  he  was  not  under  the  wheels,  the  athlete  ! 
He  swung  himself  clear.  He  got  a  foothold.  He 
heard  the  depot  echo  with  a  cheer,  but  he  only 
showed  his  back. 

Then  the  long,  the  interminable  hours  of  the 
run  to  Crosston.  Afraid  to  read  the  papers  for 
the  first  hour,  yet  more  afraid  of  the  fever  in 
his  brain,  he  ended  by  reading,  by  closely 
studying  every  line  o£  every  merciful  sheet  that 
told,  with  such  gusto  of  Christian  pity,  the  sad 
details  of  a  proud  man's  fall  to  a  Christian 
public's  willing  ear.  And  the  accounts  were 
so  harmonious,  and  so  truthful  !  You  never 
know  how  truthful,  even  to  the  smallest  incident, 
a  newspaper  is  till  you  yourself  are  a  part  of 


HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  423 

an  incident  and  able  to  verify  all  the  "  facts " 
which  it  records.  After  one  such  experience  you 
wonder  that  you  ever  doubted  what  you  have 
read  in  the  papers. 

It  was  nightfall  when  the  train  reached  Cross- 
ton.  A  branch  train  ran  in  to  the  village  from 
the  main  line.  The  little  engine  was  named 
"  Lemuel  Norcross."  He  owned  the  rails  and 
the  cars,  or  did  once. 

As  Paul  Havens  sprung  from  the  car,  Joe 
Nevada  and  his  father  alighted  also.  They  were 
met  by  a  man  whom  Paul  at  once  recognized  as 
the  town  sheriff.  But  young  Havens  and  the 
Nevadas  had  never  seen  each  other  ;  Havens  had 
never  even  heard  of  them  ;  they  had  forgotten 
his  name  and  person  ;  hence  the  three  gentlemen 
only  stared  at  each  other  suspiciously. 

"  Got   yer   wire,"    said   the   sheriff. 

Paul,  at  first,  took  the  remark  as  addressed  to 
himself,  though  he  had  sent  no  telegram.  But 
in  the  next  breath,  hand  in  hand,  the  sheriff 
was  unmistakably  talking  into  the  greedy  faces 
of  the  two  strangers. 

"  He  's  here.  His  darter  is  with  'im !  Have 
'em  locked  into  his  office  !  Sure  !  Ha !  ha ! 
Old  Norcross  !  To  think  on  it  !  Yes !  Hullo 
Havens!"  Suddenly  turning  to  Paul,  "I  declare! 


424  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

How  is  that  saintly  old  father  of  your'n  ?  Ef 
ever  thare  was  a  good  man  on  arth  it 's  your 
daddy.  I  say,  Paul,  I  'm  mighty  tickled  tew 
think  that  the  man  as  turned  your  father  out 
of  this  town,  the  best  man  as  ever  blessed  its 
sile  with  the  sole  of  his  fut " 

"  Gillfillian,"  exclaimed  Paul,  "  come  this  way. 
Now,  tell  me  where  they  are." 

"  Oh,  we  've  got  'em,  my  boy,  locked  in  his 
office.  He 's  wild,  sir,  sufferin'  terrible." 

What  else  was  said  by  Paul  Havens,  in  a 
swift  five  minutes'  masonic  conversation,  no  one 
will  ever  know.  To  this  day,  Havens  will  never 
tell.  But  it  was  not  strange  that  a  country 
Crosston  sheriff  should  believe  a  Havens,  before 
all  the  world. 

"  Well,  well,  my  man,"  said  ex-Senator  Nevada, 
the  rich  man  and  life-long  friend,  —  oh  such  a 
friend!  —  of  the  rich  man  Norcross,  "since  you've 
got  him,  me  an'  my  son  will  find  a  hotel  and 
take  a  nip  —  you  '11  come  with  us  of  course  —  if 
there  's  a  decent  bottle  of  wine  and  any  thing  to 
eat '  in  town.  Then  we  '11  make  our  attachment." 

'•'All  right,  gentlemen,"  said  the  sheriff,  sub- 
missively, with  a  wink  towards  Paul. 

Up  the  hills !  a  sleighfull  over  the  spongy 
snows.  Do  you  see  ?  Paul  Havens  is  driving. 


HAVENS  AND  NO RC ROSS.  425 

Clara  Havens  sits  holding  the  head  of  a  prostrate 
man,  who  is  very  quiet.  What  servile  offices 
this  heroic  girl  is  forced  to  perform  for  these 
maudlin  lips !  Dead  drunk,  sirs  and  madams, 
this  master  of  ministers  and  friend  of  the  Pres- 
ident !  How  she  cringes,  and  can  never  have 
done  with  her  weeping  nor  her  kissing  of  his 
icy  forehead.  Every  now  and  then  she  looks  up 
and  gets  new  strength  by  saying,  — 

"  But  Paul,  dear,  he  is  my  father  !  I  can  never 
leave  papa !  He  has  been  so  good,  until  of  late  ! " 

"  Yes,  darling,"  Paul  responds.  "  God  will  not 
forget  it,  how  you  and  I  have  clung  to  our  sires." 

After  a  long  while  they  turn  through  pasture 
bars,  into  a  sheeted  upland  pasture.  How  drear 
is  this  ghostly  midnight  !  the  two  plunging  horses 
with  their  load  like  a  huge  black  fly,  the  only 
moving  thing  in  this  mountainous  expanse  of 
desolation. 

It  is  the  old  home-farm.  This  pasture  is 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea  at  Boston 
docks  where  Andrew  and  all  the  police  are 
searching  for  their  man.  There  is  no  path  across 
the  blank  Sahara  which  they  traverse.  '  The  snow 
is  hardened  to  a  crust,  which  bears  them  up. 
They  were  fearful  it  would  not. 

"Hurrah!    It   holds!    Go!"    shouts    Paul. 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


On,  up,  to  the  distant  maple  forest,  which,  like 
a  bushy  forelock,  bristles  on  the  forehead  of 
mountain. 

It  is  a  "  sugar  camp."  That  is,  a  rude,  yet 
weather-tight  building  wherein  maple  sap  is  being 
boiled,  these  days.  It  is,  or  was,  the  property 
of  this  ruined  man  and  his  wife.  Years  and 
years  ago  Lemuel  Norcross  "  boiled  sap  "  for  a 
living,  every  spring,  right  here,  a  penniless 
"hired  man,"  and  courted  the  heiress  to  the 
farm  and  in  time  married  her,  as  you  know. 
The  fox  is  run  to  his  den  at  last. 

A  light  gleams  out  fitfully  through  the  chinks 
and  gaps  in  the  boarding.  Wreaths  of  steam 
pour  out,  lurid,  from  the  stone  chimney  ;  but 
there  is  no  sound. 

"The  boy  is  asleep.  Hullo!"  Paul  shouts  it; 
and,  alarmed  by  the  sound,  the  crows  flap  off 
the  neighboring  aviary  of  hemlocks  five  hundred 
yards  away.  So  clear  the  air  is,  so  profound 
the  solitude  ! 

"  Gosh  to  blazes  !  "  The  red-headed  half-sleepy 
sap-boiler  gasps  it,  suddenly  confronting  them. 

They  find  it  easy  to  quiet  him  ;  they  get  the 
great  manufacturer  into  the  boys'  bunk  ;  they 
blanket  and  feed  the  foaming  steeds,  though 
Clara's  colts  "may  die,  now  we  are  safe,"  she  says. 


HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  427 


There  shall  be  no  portrait  of  the  man's  awaken- 
ing, the  next  dazed  morning,  nor  of  the  watchers 
at  his  side.  This  was  said,  however,  — 

"  Is   it   true,    papa  ?  " 

"  What  ?     That   we   are   beggars  ?  " 

"  No,    sir,    but    that  you    have " 

"  I  know ;  do  n't  say  it.  It  's  true  that  we  are 
poor  as  Job's  turkey  !  Flat  !  Here,  kiss  me. 
Now,  let  me  think  a  moment.  I  am  no  fool, 
though  I  seem  to  think  by  jerks,  lately." 

"  But,    papa,    are   you    in   danger   of   arrest  ? " 

"I   am." 

"Oh,    God!" 

But  still  she  clung  with  arms  about  him,  just 
the  same.  He  would  not  let  them  speak  for  a 
long  while.  His  really  great  powers  of  mind  were 
being  addressed  to  the  task  of  self-extrication. 
He  sat  bowed  in  fitful,  restless  thought.  At 
last,  he  looked  up,  sprung  up,  put  his  hands,  with 
a  sort  of  spasm,  one  on  Paul's  and  the  other  on 
Clara's  shoulder. 

"  Young  man,  I  owe  you  every  thing  for  this 
opportunity  to  stop  and  think ;  this  gaining  of 
time.  But,  most  of  all,  I  owe  such  worth  as 
yours  a  most  humble  confession  of  my  wrong." 

Meanwhile,  Havens'  moral  sense  had  been 
awakening.  Hitherto  he  had  only  acted  from  the 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


impulse  of  generous  love  and  pity  for  all  con- 
cerned. But  this  word,  confession,  put  a  new 
and  startling  phase  upon  things.  He  must  not 
help  to  compound  any  man's  felony  !  He  put  up 
his  hands,  deprecatingly.  He  dreaded,  yet  he 
must  hear.  Then,  what  should  he  do  ?  How 
cruel  is  life  when  the  doing  a  good  deed  so 
often,  for  a  season,  lies  entangled  with  the  doing 
a  wrong  ! 

"  Young  man,  you  do  not  wish  your  future 
wife's  father  to  go  to  prison." 

"  Oh,    papa,    papa  !  "    sobbed    Clara. 

"  Have  you  committed  any  crime  against  the 
laws  of  the  land,  Mr.  Norcross?" 

There  was  something  so  fateful  in  the  ago- 
nized, yet  righteous,  face  of  the  young  man,  as 
he  dropped  the  heavy  and  direct  question,  word 
by  word,  that  the  older  man  paused  and  withheld 
his  answer.  He  withdrew  his  hand  from  Havens' 
shoulder  and  stood  leaning  on  his  child  alone.  At 
length,  he  broke  the  silence  with,  — 

"I  am  not  asking  you  to  save  me.     It  is  Andrew." 

"  But,  sir,  you  must  pardon  me,  that  does  not 
answer  my  question.  I  know  you  can  understand, 
fully,  why  I  ask  it." 

"  Buts  and  ifs  for  you,  sir.  Is  n't  Andrew  Nor- 
cross worth  saving  ?  The  great  big  innocent  ; 


HAVENS  AAD  NORCROSS,  429 

he 's  a  bankrupt,  too,  and  without  a  fault  on 
earth  of  his  own,  if  you  do  not  obey  me.  I 
tell  ye,  young  folks,  a  great  change  began  to 
come  over  that  boy  with  the  shock  of  the  news 
of  Paul's  supposed  death.  It  sobered  him.  Busi- 
ness will  sober  him  more.  And  —  and,  why,  the 
fellow  is  —  oh,  God,  how  like  sacrilege  such  words 
sound  again  on  my  tongue  !  —  Andrew  Norcross  is 
trying  to  feel  his  way  towards  —  is  what  we  used 
to  call,  in  the  happy  old  days  of  forty  years  ago, 
struck  under  conviction  ;  and  two  or  three  times 
in  the  office,  lately,  asked  me  —  think  of  it!  — 
just  how  a  man  found  Christ." 

"  It 's  Puss'  beautiful  work  !  "  cried  Clara,  with 
fresh  and  restoring  weeping. 

At  any  other  time,  such  tidings  would  have 
melted  Paul  Havens'  heart,  also.  But  not  now, 
no,  not  now,  moved,  as  he  thought  he  had  never 
been  before,  by  this  terrific  crisis  of  love  and 
duty. 

At  any  other  time,  he  would  have  been  im- 
pressed by  this  sad  spectacle  of  an  apostate's 
unspeakable  humiliation,  in  the  memory  of  at- 
tempting to  discipline  an  inquirer.  No  doubt 
it  is  the  lowest  abyss  of  wretchedness.  But 
now,  all  Paul's  mind  was  bent  upon  this  quest, 
"  Have  you  broken  the  law  ?  " 


43°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  Go  tell  Senators  Takeit  and  Nevada,  that  I 
can,  and  will,  make  them  whole." 

"  I  can  promise  nothing,  sir,  till  I  know  just 
what  I  am  doing,"  was  Paul's  inflexible  reply, 
his  bloodless  face  written  over  with  his  distress, 

"  Well,  then,  would  you  call  lobbying,  law- 
breaking?  Say,  if  money  was  given,  and  received? 
Ah,  yes,  it  was  received.  Tell  those  men  if 
they  do  not  cease  to  pursue  me,  I  will  turn  on 
them  ;  that  I  have  it  in  black  and  white,  where 
I  have  put  money  in  Washington,  and  perhaps 
the  President  may  advise  'em,  for  party  reasons, 
to  stop  where  they  are.  Oh,  it 's  a  queer  world, 
up  among  the  high  joints  !  " 

His  hands  came  back,  and  plunged  into  his 
pockets ;  his  legs  were  braced  to  hold  this  man 
of  iron  frame,  yet  relaxed  by  fasting,  till  now 
weaker  than  water.  His  eyes  stared  hard  on 
Paul. 

"  Do  n't  answer,  now,  my  dear  Paul,  do  n't, 
do  n't  !  "  cried  Clara,  throwing  her  arms  about 
her  lover's  neck.  "  Think  how  papa  has  called 
me  your  future  wife,  at  last.  Think  what  a 
strange  world  it  is  ;  how  nothing  is  quite  right, 
here  on  earth  ;  no,  not  quite  right.  What  would 
you  do,  if  it  were  your  father,  Paul  ?  Now, 
do  n't  answer ;  but  go  do  it.  Take  the  ponies, 


HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  431 


and  do  get  to  a  telegraph-office,  sending  poor 
mamma  word." 

"  No,"  put  in  her  father.  "  Send  no  dispatches, 
but  leave  us  here,  and  go  yourself.  Nevada  has, 
doubtless,  already  attached  the  mills  and  returned 
to  Boston.  He 's  great  on  Pinkerton's  detective 
agency ;  has  probably  sent  them  after  me ;  of 
course  they'll  find  me " 

"They'll  never  take  you,  sir,  while  I  live!" 
It  was  this  glorious  girl  ;  and  she  transferred  her 
wings  and  feathers  from  lover  to  father,  instantly  ; 
he  was  not  a  large  man ;  she  was  able  to  give 
him  ample  embrace. 

"  As  I  was  saying,"  he  went  on,  "  they  will 
find  me  within  a  week,  or  so.  Therefore,  make 
haste.  Tell  Bill  he 's  a  ruined  man,  if  all  debts 
are  paid,  and  they  can  be,  must  be.  But  his 
son,  Andrew,  should  have  half  a  million  equity, 
which  must  be  protected."  And  he  rapidly 
sketched  a  plan  by  which  Andrew  might  hope 
righteously  to  regain  control  of  the  Crosston 
mills.  "  Bill's  two  girls  and  wife  must  have  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  each ;  so  Bill 's  all 
right.  And  he 's  getting  old,  any  way.  As  for 
me,  I  'm  out.  Disgrace  never  lets  up.  But  I  '11 
never  go  to  prison  !  " 

What   a  wretched   scene   it   was !     This   man  of 


43 2  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

sublime  mental  gifts,  the  creator  of  perhaps  the 
foremost  manufacturing  concern  in  America,  this 
master  of  the  politics  of  a  great  state,  and  the 
acknowledged  intimate  of  the  rulers  of  his  native 
land ;  more  than  that,  this  once  honored  Chris- 
tian believer,  builder  of  churches  and  seminaries, 
the  trusted  lay  adviser  of  high-titled  clergy  ;  this 
father  of  that  sweet  child,  —  oh,  bitterest  disgrace 
of  all!  —  who  nestled  her  head  on  his  breast,  and 
seemed  to  lend  her  eyes  to  him,  in  that  gaze 
that  waited  on  Paul's  reply ;  and  before  his  own 
child  a  trembling  fugitive. 

"I  prophesy,  children,"  poor  Norcross  said,  "a 
long  procession  of  honorable  defaulters,  about 
these  times.  The  inordinate  love  of  money  has 
done  it.  The  secret  apostasy  from  the  religion 
of  our  boyhood  has  made  it  possible." 

The  two  young  people  listened,  for  the  most 
part,  to  his  bitter  self-upbraidings  almost  in  si- 
lence. It  seemed  to  the  younger  man  the  great- 
est kindness  he  could  render  the  man  whom  pity 
was  teaching  him  to  love. 

"  Havens,  she  tells  me  you  are  free,"  Mr.  Nor- 
cross began  again.  "  No  ecclesiastical  tribunal 
could  arraign  you  for  your  acts.  I  know  full 
well  how  busy  the  churches  and  church-journals 
will  now  be  in  washing  all  traces  of  Lemuel 


HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  433 

Norcross  from  their  hands.  It  might  have  been 
well,  had  they  dared  to  busy  themselves  with  this 
fool  of  a  rich  man  before  :  but  he  was  too  strrong, 
then,  to  be  called  to  account  for  non-attendance 
at  prayer  meetings  and  other  pious  places :  of 
course,  all  that  they  could  reasonably  expect  of 
him  was  the  honor  of  his  name  on  their  church 
rolls.  Well,  now,  do  as  you  think  best,  my  boy." 
The  hardest  tasks  are  sometimes  performed  the 
most  readily.  The  very  majesty  of  a  great  and 
critical  duty  fascinates  us,  enslaves  us.  Paul 
Havens  could  not  now  be  turned  aside  from  an 
answer  to  his  question.  All  the  pity,  all  the 
love  that  he  bore  each  and  all  this  troubled 
group,  all  his  devotion  to  this  lovely  girl,  could 
not  swerve  him.  He  had  a  sickening  sense  of 
misery  to  come,  if  the  man  should  by  his  an- 
swer tie  his  hands.  But  yet  he  returned  to  it 

* 
with    mechanical    repetition. 

"  It  is  not  for  such  a  sin  as  bribery,  sir,  vul- 
gar and  common  enough,  that  you  have  fled 
hither,  or  these  men  pursue  you.  I  ask  again, 
have  you  wrongfully  appropriated  to  your  own  use 
money  belonging  to  these  men,  or  any  man  ? " 

"No!" 

"Whr.t,    then,    h   your   debt?" 


434  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  Do   you    call    God   to   witness  ? " 

"I    dare   and   do  ! " 

And  upon  that  lie  of  a  desperate  man,  .Paul 
Havens  turned  to  go  upon  his  generous  way  of 
rescue  and  work  for  the  recovery  of  all.  As  he 
looks  back  on  the  scene  now,  he  remembers  how 
strongly  and  yet  strangely  he  felt  that  the 
wretched  man  must  have  been  speaking  the 
truth ;  every  sacred  sanction  possible  to  move  a 
man  seemed  present  to  move  Norcross  to  speak 
the  truth.  It  was  indeed  a  "  gambler's  debt," 
but  of  that  sort  of  "  gambling "  which  in  lower 
strata  is  called  cheating,  but  among  great 
operators  and  their  ring,  in  this  age  of 
speculation,  has  too  often  been  allowed  to  escape 
its  just  deserts.  Alas,  who  can  predict  the  deeps 
to  which  a  once  honored  and  honorable  man 
descends  at  last  in  ways  of  modern  peculation  ? 
Norcross  was  both  lying  and  driveling  prayers  in 
the  same  breath ! 

Clara  put  up  her  face  for  his  parting  salutation, 
saying,  — 

"  You   will  come   back    for   him  ?  " 

"  You  will  surely  come  back  for  her  ? "  echoed 
Lemuel  Norcross. 

Paul  answered,  "As  sure  as  God  lets  me  live!" 
He  turned  to  begin  the  long  journey. 


HAVENS  AND  NORCROSS.  435 

Father  and  daughter  watched  him  as,  on  the 
lurching,  slumping  ox-sled,  he  began  the  slow 
descent  of  the  mountain.  The  horses  had  been 
sent  to  the  farm-house  with  which  confidential 
communications  had  been  established,  for  food 
and  other  necessaries,  with  a  few  articles  of 
comfort.  Father  and  daughter  watched  Paul,  as 
he  finally  struck  off  across  the  glistening  snow, 
against  the  red  west  of  late  afternoon.  How 
little  the  hopeful  young  rescuer  knew  that  he 
had  looked  on  Lemuel  Norcross'  face  for  the 
last  time  ! 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


XXII. 

DISHONORED 

4 1  r  I  ^HEY  think  he 's  gone  to  the  queen's  do- 
-*-  minions,"  said  the  obliging  sheriff,  as 
Paul  took  the  train.  "  The  chaps  has  got  hooks 
on  the  mills  ;  and  the  Pinkies  are  chasm'  game 
to  Canada." 

This  was  all  Paul  needed  to  know,  and  almost 
all  he  did  know,  sleeping  youth's  tired  slumber, 
till  the  train  rumbled  into  Boston,  the  next  morn- 
ing. He  lost  no  time  in  making  his  way  to  Com- 
monwealth Avenue. 

Never  a  quicker  family-muster  than  that  which, 
in  morning-wrappers  and  house-jackets,  flutters  and 
stalks  into  the  library,  at  the  tidings,  "  Mr.  Ha- 
vens !  "  It  is  better  than  breakfast  ;  every  one  is 
on  hand,  instantly,  except  Puss,  but  probably  she 
will  be  right  down. 

"  Found  !     Safe   and    sound  !  " 

"  Hurrah  ! "  It  is  boisterous,  generous-hearted 
Andrew,  whose  blood  is  thicker  than  water,  af- 
ter all. 

"  Hush  !  "     It   is   William    Norcross. 


DISHONORED* 


"  Oh,  God  be  praised  !  Tell  me,  tell  me, 
tell  me ! "  It  is  Clara's  mother,  almost  in  hys- 
terics. 

"Hush!  sister,  hush!  Remember."  It  is  the 
gentle  mother  of  this  home ;  and  she  half  turns 
to  fly  back  up  the  stairs,  but  pauses  at  their  foot, 
listening  in  two  directions. 

Paul  told  his  story. 

"Exactly!"  was  William  Norcross'  comment,  as 
he  heard  the  reading  of  his  brother's  able  plan 
for  Andrew's  recovery  of  the  property.  "  Send  for 
our  lawyer.  I  '11  turn  over  all  I  have,  and  let 's  be 
at  it."  A  messenger  was  dispatched  for  the  head 
clerk,  the  bookkeeper,  and  the  attorney,  at  once. 
Then  the  clean  old  man,  breakfast  untouched, 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  face  scarlet,  great  veins 
swollen  across  his  temples,  walked  the  floor  im- 
patiently, murmuring,  — 

"God  is  good!  He  shall  keep  our  honor.  My 
poor  brother  !  " 

As  he  came  to  the  last  of  this  triple  burthen 
of  his  tongue  for  the  twentieth  time,  the  broth- 
er's wife,  who,  with  Paul  Havens,  had  sunk  down 
unobserved  and  almost  fainting,  by  the  window, 
caught  at  the  old  man's  dressing-gown,  with,  — 

"  Yes,  yes.  I  should  say  so.  Your  poor 
brother  !  My  husband  and  child  !  " 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


"Why,  haven't  you  gone  in  to  breakfast,  yet.?" 
asked  Andrew,  in  a  rough  attempt  at  comforting 
her.  "  Bless  you,  auntie,"  and  he  kissed  her. 

"If  you  please,  good  folk,"  Paul  seized  on 
the  moment.  "  As  your  hands  will  be  full  of 
property  questions,  suppose  you  leave  these  Ne- 
vadas,  Takeits,  etc.,  to  me." 

"  Why,  yes,  my  boy,"  was  the  old  gentleman's 
excited  reply.  "Here,  I'll  enlist  Governor  Blank, 
our  attorney,  and  any  number  of  —  no.  The  gov- 
ernor and  yourself  are  enough.  Take  the  car- 
riage. I  'd  go,  but,  while  I  know  these  men,  my 
poor  brother  kept  all  these  dark  matters  from 
ray  knowledge.  I  suspected  much  of  late,  but 
knew  nothing.  I  should  hinder  you.  Stay ;  so 
would  the  governor.  Go  alone  ;  to  the  Parker 
House  ;  take  only  my  card  ;  no,  not  even  that  ; 
introduce  yourself  by  that  scrap  of  Lem's  hand- 
writing, —  his  memorandum  !  " 

Just  then  his  wife  was  passing  through  the 
room,  having  descended,  evidently,  from  the  floor 
above.  The  old  gentleman  looked  up  anxiously 
into  her  face,  and  asked,  "  How  does  shu  seem, 
mother  ?  " 

"  Resting  quietly,  and  she  heard  the  good  news 
so  sweetly.  It  has  been  self  last  with  her,  so 
much  of  late."  And  the  speaker's  eyes  filled. 


DISHONORED.  439 


"  Forgive  me,"  exclaimed  Paul.  "  How  stupid 
I  have  been  !  Your  daughter  is  not  well  ? " 
There  was  a  genuine  sympathy  in  that  tone,  but 
there  was  a  deeper  pang  in  the  young  fellow's 
heart. 

"Dear  Puss!"  her  mother  responded.  "You 
may  not  know  that  she  has  been  frail  ever  since 
we  went  abroad.  The  shock  of  this  trouble  al- 
most destroyed  her ;  we  thought  her  dying,  the 
night  after  you  left ;  she  seems  very  peaceful, 
and  at  rest,  now,  but  — '  You  know  what  a 
mother  would  do  next,  quenching  her  speech. 

Paul  started  up ;  but  who  was  he,  to  be  in- 
vited into  the  sick  chamber  of  this  young  lady  ? 
Besides,  her  father  and  Clara's  mother,  in  one 
breath,  put  in,  — 

"  You  have  no  time  to  lose,  my  dear  Mr.  Ha- 
vens. Eat  something,  and  be  ready  for  the  car- 
riage." 

"  Oh,  for  the  love  of  heaven,  make  haste ! 
That  wretched,  weather-beaten  sugar-lodge  !  " 

If  Havens  ate  anything,  he  can  not  since  re- 
call the  fact. 

He  was  shortly  in  the  carriage,  rolling  towards 
the  Parker  House. 

As     shrewd     Lemuel      Norcross     had    guessed, 


440  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


Nevada  had  brought  Senator  Takeit  back  with  him. 
A  man's  a  man,  and  wants  his  money ;  yet  a 
man  may  be  a  careful  politician  and  want  to  be 
President,  you  know,  by  and  by.  It  will  not 
do  to  make  an  unsavory  stench  in  New  England. 

"Takeit,  how  shall  we  manage  this  matter? 
Then,  you  know,  Takeit,  that  my  Joe  has  set 
his  heart  on  Boston  society,  and  we  do  n't  want 
to  be  too  hard  on  any  body  here.  Ain't  there 
consid'r'bl'  respect  for  t  'other  Norcross  here  in 
town?  Yet,  this  wretched  Lem !  he's  euchred  me! 
He 's  lied  to  me  !  I  can't  stand  a  liar.  He  's 
deceived  me.  And,  with  all  my  faults,  the  man 
don't  live  who  can  charge  a  Nevada  with  goin' 
back  on  a  friend  !  Nevada  bought  in  for  a  rise. 
I  knew  he  was  hard  up,  but  I  did  n't  s'pose 
he  'd  dare  draw  a  worthless  check  or  lie  on  his 
own  stock-book." 

Senator  Takeit,  Senator  Nevada,  Joe  Nevada, 
this  was  the  party,  breakfasting  in  a  private 
parlor,  to  whom  Paul  Havens'  strange  card  was 
taken.  Breakfasting  ?  Well,  it  was  mostly  lique- 
fying, solids  not  being  relished,  after  last  night, 
till  later  in  the  day.  Joe  Nevada,  already  done 
with  the  table,  sat  heels  in  the  window,  tran- 
quilly smoking. 

"  Havens  ? "    The   old   man  read  the  card  aloud. 


DISHONORED.  44! 


"  What  ?  Havens  ?  "  This  from  Mr.  Joe,  thaw- 
ing out  enough  to  drop  heels  to  floor.  "  Why, 
that's  her  real  name!" 

"  Whose    name,    sonny  ?  " 

"  That  's  the  real  name  of  Miss  Rose  Rockle, 
the  sublime  young  actress  that  I  've  been  raving 
about." 

"You  raving,  indeed!"  laughed  Takeit.  "Ice 
burning." 

Still,  there  you  have  it,  reader.  These  gentle- 
men had  rested  themselves  last  evening  at  the 
opera,  where  Bella  Havens  —  stage  name  as 
above  —  was  playing  some  minor  part,  the  old 
story  of  hope  deferred,  though  not  of  heart  quite 
yet  faint. 

"  Show  the  gentleman  up.  One  of  the  local  boys, 
I  s'pose,"  said  the  elder  Nevada.  "  Clear  away." 

Through  the  wiping  of  whiskers,  Paul  was 
greeted  with,  "  Ah,  Mr.  Havens.  Glad  to  meet 
you.  Take  a  seat."  Then  introductions,  offer  of 
drinks  or  cigars.  What,  neither  ?  And  such  a 
clean  face,  clean  eye,  clean  complexion,  powerful 
buikl,  yet  so  quiet.  Evidently  not  one  of  the 
boys.  Difficult  to  know  what  to  say  first  to 
him.  Visitor  himself  not  embarrassed,  but  evi- 
dently self-repressed,  like  a  big  white  cloud  that 
may  have  thunder  in  it. 


442  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  come  from  unhappy  Lemuel 
Norcross!"  Oh!  There's  the  thunder  clap. 

"The you  do!"  What  a  shock  to  this 

father  of  his  country,  member  of  the  paternal  up- 
per house  !  How  cruel;  for  it  was  too  early  in  the 
morning.  The  paternal  member  never  gets  on 
helmet,  shield,  and  sword  before  twelve,  noon. 

"  Yes.  He  and  his  brother  propose  to  sur- 
render, without  contest,  so  much  of  the  property 
as  is  their  own  to  satisfy  your  claim,"  etc.,  etc. 

"The   dog.     Where   is   he?" 

"He  has   been   your   friend." 

"Friend!  Ha,  ha!  There's  millions  in  that, 
Takeit,"  slapping  the  other  senatorial  back.  Then 
sternly,  "  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  That    I    decline   to   answer." 

"  Then  you  know  ?  I  '11 "  and  he  reached 

for  the  bell  button. 

"  Do  n't  do  that,  sir,"  answered  Paul.  "  Calm 
yourself  and  listen.  Andrew  Norcross  has  an 
equity  in  that  concern.  It  ought  to  be  pro- 
tected." 

"  I  '11   fight   it !     I  '11   fight   it !  " 

"No,  you  will  not,  father,  if  you  wish  to  carry 
New  England."  Very  cool,  this  other  young 
man's  tone. 

"  I   vow  I  will,  and   I  '11  have,  this  young  villain, 


DISHONORED.  443 


here,  arrested  within  five  minutes,  as  an  accom- 
plice of  the  thief  Norcross ! "  The  great  man's 
watch  chain  clanked  on  his  round  person,  and 
the  air  was-  sulphurous  with  words  that  I  have 
omitted.  Ah,  how  safe  the  country  is  in  these 
strong  hands  !  Let  the  little  children  pray  on, 
every  night  at  cradle  sides,  "  God  bless  our 
native  land ! " 

Paul  Havens  stirred  not  a  muscle  as  the  en- 
raged man  waddled  up  to  him  and  laid  a  hand 
on  his  coat  collar.  The  coat  collar  was  just  a 
little  thread-bare,  the  garment  was  neat  enough, 
but  there  are  limits  to  what  you  can  expect  of 
a  coat  with  the  utmost  care, —  two  years,  for  in- 
stance. Paul's  business  —  the  doing -men -good 
business  —  didn't  pay  as  well  as  the  senator's 
business,  the  doing-men  business.  Shrewd  sena- 
tor !  he  had  noticed  that  coat.  He  who  would 
be  President  of  the  United  States,  these  days, 
must  notice  coats. 

"  Take  your  hand  off,  man ! "  Havens'  tone 
was  soft  and  low  enough. 

Mr.  Joe  Nevada,  looking  on  from  his  seat  by 
the  window,  had  seen  the  world,  you  remember ; 
and  that  soft,  low  tone  alarmed  him  at  once. 
It  is  the  alarming  kind.  With  a  bound  he  was 
between  the  two  lowering  men.  "Father!  Re- 


444  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


strain  yourself.  We  want  no  vulgar  encounter 
with  this  gentleman." 

Whereat  the  hand  that  steadies  the  helm  of 
this  most  Christian  state  fell  off,  though  rather 
reluctantly,  from  Paul  Havens'  neck. 

"Now  then,  gentlemen,"  Havens  resumed,  a 
smile,  half  of  vexation,  half  of  amusement,  play- 
ing about  his  lips,  "no  doubt  I  was  too  abrupt; 
but  really,  my  business  is  such  that  introductions 
and  preliminaries  are,  in  the  nature  of  the  case, 
painful  all  round.  Yet,  I  should  have  given  you 
references,  probably  ;  for  myself,  I  can  refer  you 
to  the  mayor  of  this  city,  to  his  excellency  ex- 
Governor  Blank,  and  to  almost  any  of  our  city 
clergymen.  But,  gentlemen,  as  I  have  documents 
in  the  hand-writing  of  Lemuel  Norcross  himself, 
which  you  must  at  once  easily  recognize,  and  as 
this  is  a  painful  family  matter,  on  our  side  at 
least,  really  now,  I  could  wish  that  we  might 
get  at  the  business  ourselves.  Some  privacy  would 
be  very  gratefully  regarded." 

"By  all  means,  Mr. pardon  me;  the  name?" 

asked  Joe  Nevada,  all  politeness,  extending  his 
hand. 

"Havens,"  replied  Paul,  cordially  grasping  the 
proffered  hand. 

"Take    a    seat,    Mr.    Havens,"    resumed    young 


DISHONORED.  4  -1 5 


Nevada.  "Father,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  send 
for  the  lawyer  a  trifle  earlier.  There,"  drawing 
and  turning  the  chairs  for  his  sire  and  the  other 
senator,  at  the  same  time  touching  the  call  bell, 
"  I  will  venture,  father,  to  write  at  once  on  my 
card  for  you.  Your  hand  trembles  a  little.  I 
doubt  not  we  can  have  the  attorney  here  within 
fifteen  minutes.  Eh,  Mr.  Takeit  ? "  , 

"Exactly,"  was  the  other  senator's  reply.  "  I 
am  the  last  man  to  want  to  impede  peaceable 
councils,"  with  as  sincere  a  laugh  as  ever  shook 
a  man's  sides.  "  For,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  've  been 
in  a  mighty  pickle.  What  with  my  district  on 
one  side,  and  you,  old  feller,"  with  a  tap  of  his 
fingers  that  held  a  fresh-lighted  cigar  on  the 
broad  back  of  the  older  Nevada,  "  on  the  other 
side,  zounds  !  I  sh'd  ha'  been  in  hot  water  sure. 
Peace  is  my  motto.  Ha !  ha ! "  Now  all  broad 
smiles,  cigar  in  lips,  coat  caught  up  by  hands  that 
strained  into  his  tight  pockets,  and  face  turned 
up  benignantly  on  the  peacefully  curling  wreaths 
of  thin  smoke.  After  which  the  lawyers  came ; 
noon  came  ;  and  afternoon,  the  evening,  but  the 
peaceful  solution  not  yet,  though  evidently  coming. 

"  Can't  give  up  seein'  the  liar  in  prison ! " 
This  often  from  the  former  bosom-friend  of 
"  Lem  Norcross." 


446  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

"  How  like  thunder  you  millionaires  love  each 
other,  do  n't  ye,  when  ye  fall  out  ? "  This  or 
some  similar  banter  from  the  good-natured  Takeit, 
always  ready  and  prompt  to  the  rescue  of  the 
trio  of  young  fellows  now  working  in  harmony. 

"  But  he 's  ruined  for  life,  you  know,  any 
way,"  said  the  leading  lawyer,  with  a  snap  of 
his  fingers,  taking  his  cue  from  Takeit,  though 
his  fee  from  Nevada  senior. 

"  He  will  reside  in  Europe,  no  doubt,  gentle- 
men," said  Joe  Nevada. 

"  That  's  the  checker !  "  exclaimed  Takeit. 
"  Nor— cross  the  seas  again  !  " 

"  I  b'lieve  you  'd  joke  at  a  funeral,  Takeit  !  " 
growled  old  Nevada,  amid  the  oh's  and  ah's. 

At  which  the  astute  and  jesting  peacemaker 
shook  his  sides  again  and  winked  to  the  attor- 
neys all  round.  "  He 's  thawing  out,  gentlemen. 
Known  him  for  years.  Never  mind  my  non- 
sense ;  go  ahead  with  your  affairs.  Nevada  can't 
quite  endure  a  liar,  and  a  feller  who  deceives 
him " 

"  Struck  it  to  a  hair ! "  roared  the  gentleman 
in  question,  with  a  gratified  thump  on  the 
table, 

"  But  this  is  a  matter  involving  justice  to 
several  innocent  persons,"  said  Paul  Havens ; 


DISHONORED. 


"and,  as  I  understand  it,  Norcross  himself  is 
innocent  of  actual  fraud." 

"Right!"  was  Takeit's  ready  help,  while  a 
curious  smile  ran  round.  "And  when,"  rising 
and  throwing  it  over  his  shoulder,  —  "when  cLl 
a  Nevada  ever  refuse  a  fellow-man  justice?  I 
Take-it,  never ! "  The  senatorial  humor  gradu- 
ally won  its  way.  Happy  man  he !  A  peace- 
maker of  a  noble  type,  with  real  milk  —  or  brandy 
and  water  —  of  human  kindness  in  his  veins. 
"  Will  reside  out  of  the  country.  Excellent  !  " 
No  more  that  whip-cracking  over  his  senatorial 
head.  The  best-fed  slave  sometimes  likes  to 
change  masters. 

So  we  go  hitching  along,  the  lawyers  help- 
ing. But  there  are  to  be  several  days  of  this 
hitching  along  before  matters  of  millions  and 
justice  and  "punishment"  to  the  wicked  are 
fixed  all  around.  Havens  comes  and  goes  like 
a  shuttle  with  a  silver  thread,  meanwhile. 

"No  actual  fraud?"  growled  Senator  Nevada, 
as  the  last  check  and  voucher  were  exchanged, 
one  day.  "Young  man,"  putting  his  heavy  palm 
on  Paul  Havens'  shoulder,  "  that  was  the  phrase 
you  let  drop  here  a  week  ago  or  so,  when  we 
began  this  business.  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  you 
were  a  tenderfoot.  But  now  that  I  've  got  my 


44^  DOLLARS  AND 


money,  I  '11  show  you  what  a  thief  this  Lem 
Norcross  actually  was.  Look  a'  there  !  "  and  he 
spread  out  the  dishonored  stock-book  of  the 
Crosston  mills,  wherein  the  over-issue  to  Nevada 
&  Co.  lay  open  to  the  light  of  day.  "That's 
the  stuff  the  fellow  gave  me  when  he  took 
chances  on  our  Colorado  properties.  Here,  take 
it  ;  it  's  Andrew  Norcross'  property  now,  free  and 
clear.  Straighten  it  out.  But  I  tell  ye,  you  '11 
never  see  that  precious  scamp  again." 

Let  us  drop  the  veil  of  pity  here.  Let  us 
not  attempt  to  describe  the  chagrin,  —  yes,  the 
agony  of  shame  which  this  actual  knowledge 
threw  on  Paul  Havens. 

But  it  was  all  past.  He  had  intended  no 
complicity  in  the  defaulter's  escape  ;  he  had  him- 
self been  a  victim  of  the  fallen  man's  falsehood  ; 
and,  in  the  person  of  his  future  wife,  must  ever 
help  to  bear  some  portion  of  the  family  shame. 


OUT  OF  LIFE  INTO  LIFE.  449 


XXIII. 

OUT  OF  LIFE   INTO   LIFE. 

E  AN  WHILE,  a  different  company  was  gath- 
*•*•*•  ering  each  clay  at-  the  residence  on  Com- 
monwealth Avenue.  Puss  Norcross  is  about  taking 
a  long  journey,  and  many  are  gathered  daily  in 
her  room  to  say  good-bye.  She  has  no  discov- 
erable disease,  it  is  rather  the  touch  of  an  angel's 
wing,  from  which  no  one  ever  recovers.  Thank 
God  !  that  touch  makes  it  impossible  for  a  mortal 
to  stay  on  earth  ;  a  mere  brush,  a  gentle  fanning 
every  day,  every  night,  of  an  angelic  wing. 

It  was  a  sunny  going  away,  out  of  life  into 
life.  The  breath  of  the  May  mornings  were  freely 
admitted  to  the  opened  dwelling.  The  living  air 
of  each  daybreak  was  vocal  with  the  minstrelsy 
of  birds  who,  northward  journeying  towards  rural 
uplands,  always  pause  for  a  city  season  of  con- 
certing. The  only  beauty  of  the  city's  summer  is 
May.  It  was  always  Puss's  favorite  season,  and 
never  more  so  than  now.  She  sits  much  in  her 
chair,  rich-robed,  white  hands,  like  alabaster, 
features  composed  in  smiles  not  of  this  world, 


45°  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

all  in  such  grace  of  frailty  that  she  reminds  you 
of  lace  drapery  at  a  window  through  which  the 
evening  stars  might  shine. 

"  Bring  them  in,"  she  whispers.  She  means 
the  fresh  flowers  from  the  conservatory ;  '.hey 
come  every  morning,  and  she  watches  the  garcl- 
ner  as  he  banks  them,  braids  them,  bunches  and 
festoons  them,  the  adorning  for  her  bridal.  Poor 
man,  the  old  florist,  I  mean,  his  eyes  yet  full  'of 
tears  often,  for  he  can  not  understand  it.  But  this 
bride  says,  "  Peter,  you  shall  see,  for  once,  how 
true  the  Christian's  hope  is:  to  die  is  gain." 

"Bring  them  in,"  she  softly  murmurs,  all 
smiles,  and  every  afternoon,  when  her  strength  is 
firmest,  a  troop  of  little  children  come.  They 
bring  garlands  on  garlands  of  blessings  from  the 
attics  of  the  poor.  They  have  been  cautioned 
bclow-stairs  not  to  cry ;  but  up-stairs  they  could 
not  shed  a  tear — it  is  all  sunshine,  joy,  ripple 
of  laughter,  carol  of  silver  songs  and  clapping 
hands.  So  the  immortals  ought  to  go,  to  their 
own  place,  children,  "with  songs  and  everlasting 
joys  upon  their  heads."  This  is  the  logic  of  a 
life,  little  ones,  and  ye  will  not  forget  it,  though 
you  forget  the  logic  of  many  labored  sermons. 

She  sits  in  the  flush  of  the  evening  like  a 
prophetess,  and  seems  to  be  reading  the  signs 


OUT  OF  LIFE  INTO  LIFE.  451 

in  the  rich-hucd  western  sunsets.  Tender  tints 
glow  on  her  satin  robes,  and  satin  hands  and 
face,  as  if  the  tidings  were  flung  out  to  her 
through  the  gates  of  evening,  from  One  whom 
the  others  can  not  see.  "I  am  he  who  was 
dead,  and  behold  I  am  alive  forevermore." 

"Yes,  yes,"  murmur  the  white-whiskered  lips  of 
her  father.  "The  Faith  of  the  Ages,  darling!" 

But  no  one  weeps ;  it  is  against  the  law,  the 
eternal  law  which  few  mortals  can  obey. 

"I  prophesy  that  to-morrow,  dear  boys"  —  so 
she  addresses  the  much-perplexed  Andrew  and 
Paul — "those  gentlemen,  or  the  courts,"  as  the 
case  might  be,  for  she  kept  closely  informed, 
"will  do  thus  and  so.  Every  clay  a  little  nearer." 

It  is  not  mine  to  explain  how  she  foreknew, 
but  to  record  the  fact.  This  prophetess  read  out 
the  victories  of  each  day. 

"  Glorious  woman  ! "  Paul  exclaimed  one  even- 
ing, almost  rushing  in  with  his  glad  tidings, 
"your  brother  has  got  his  rights!" 

She  smiled  on  "the  unselfish  man,"  as  he 
kissed  her  hand. 

"Sister!  Sister!  I  have  a  chance  again!"  It 
was  Andrew,  as  he  flung  his  arms  about  her. 

Then  they  explained  to  her  that  Andrew  would 
be  permitted  to  succeed  to  and  go  on  with  the 


45 2  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

mills  at  Crosston  with  his  father,  "provided  he 
had  the  commercial  ability." 

"I  knew  it,"  she  calmly  remarked,  "my  brother 
has  the  ability.  He  will  address  himself  to  a 
man's  task  now.  Paul,  I  wonder  if  your  bright 
sister  would  come  to  see  me  ?  Bella,  I  mean. 
Invite  her  to  accompany  your  saintly  father  and 
mother  to-morrow,  will  you  ?  Tell  her  this  is  the 
chamber  of  life,  not  of  death."  Her  soft,  thin 
hand  was  patting  Andrew's  bushy  head,  as  it  lay 
against  her  knee." 

"My  sister" — softly  yet  with  deep  emotion  the 
bowed  youth  speaks — "could  you  tell  me  the  way 
to  find  your  Christ?  I — I  have  no  such  heaven 
before  my  eyes  as  you  are  nearing — I  seem 
likely  to  live  long  —  and  with  all  these  added 
burdens,  this  great  business,  could  Christ  —  some- 
how I  think  one  needs  him,  even  more  to  live 
well  than  to  die  well." 

"If  such  is  your  thought,  Andrew,  Christ  must 
have  already  found  you,  for  these  are  not  the 
thoughts  of  the  natural  heart." 

"Found  me,  sweet  sister?"  He  looks  up  fer- 
vently to  exclaim  it.  "Does  Christ  first  seek 
us  mortals?" 

"It  is  so  written,  dear  brother.  He  is  the 
Shepherd  who  goes  to  find  his  sheep." 


OUT  OF  LIFE  INTO  LIFE.  453 

"Why,  then,  Puss,  I  have  but  to  be  found  of 
him?  To  say,  'Here  am  I,  my  Saviour'?"  The 
young  man  had  slipped  from  the  hassock  at  her 
feet  to  his  knees  at  her  knee. 

"  That  is  all,  Andrew.  Being  saved  is  faith's 
self-surrender  to  the  Crucified  One." 

"Oh,  my  sister,'  so  soon  to  go  to  dwell  with 
him,  you  who  have  known  this  Christ  so  long, 
while  I  bow,  speak  you  the  words  for  me,  and  pray 
him  to  receive  me,  while  I  stammer  out  Amen." 

While  they  were  at  prayer  the  door  opened, 
and  Sylvester  Havens  entered.  The  aged  clergy- 
man came  often  nowadays,  and  was  always  a 
blessing.  Indeed,  all  the  Havens  family  came 
often  of  late.  You  should  have  heard  the  sym- 
phonies, struck  from  the  harps  of  these  two 
hearts,  as  old  Pastor  Havens  sat  long  and  sunny 
hours  in  conversation  with  this  woman. 

"  Good  morning,  sweet  child.  Life  is  a  pil- 
grimage." 

"  Good  morning,  dear  servant  of  Jesus.  Life 
is  as  a  tale  that  is  told." 

"Life  is  Christ,  dear  child,  and  to  die  is 
gain."  And  then  she  explained  Andrew's  joy. 

Often  then,  when  her  human  heart  could 
not  quite  contain  itself,  and  it  being  unlawful 
to  weep  in  that  bright  chamber,  Minnie,  the 


454  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


sister,  would  descend  to  the  drawing-room  and 
touch  the  piano.  The  welcome  melody  floating 
up  with  overture  of  joy,  ardently  loved  by  this 
invalid  whose  passion  was  music,  would  seem 
like  the  echo  of  the  far-away  song,  the  New 
Song,  which  you  and  I  have  never  heard,  reader. 

Every  day  the  flush  of  the  spring  came  over 
Bella  Havens'  ice-fields  in  the  soul.  But  as  yet 
there  were  no  green  grasses  nor  flowers. 

"  It  will  be  all  right  to-morrow ! "  one  June 
evening,  Puss  had  added  to  this  usual  remark ; 
"  for  to-morrow  Uncle  Lem  and  Clara  are  com- 
ing back  from  Crosston." 

Out  of  pity  they  have  never  told  her  the 
worst.  She  is  never  to  know  that  Lemuel  Nor- 
cross  has  sunk  into  a  dishonored  grave. 

"  Caged  up  in  their  great  lonely  mansion  there 
in  the  village  for  weeks,  what  a  noble  daughter 
that  dear  child  has  been  to  that  sick  man ! 
They  tell  me  wonderful  things  of  her  heavenly 
ministry  to  her  father.  I  shudder  to  think  what 
might  have  been,  had  she  not  spread  her  wings, 
like  a  night  bird,  and  flown  after  him,  that 
terrible  midnight.  And  how  happy  it  will  be  for 
such  a  man,  your  Paul,  to  have  such  a  wife ! " 

Look  at  them,  —  Puss  and  Clara  meeting  the 
next  morning;  though  no  eye  saw  them  then 


OUT  OF  LIFE  INTO  LIFE.  455 

save  Paul  Havens',  who  stood  regarding  these 
two  young  women  in  their  greetings.  The  one 
in  her  chair,  the  other  risen  now  from  her 
kneeling,  and  standing,  in  full  bloom,  at  the 
other's  side.  The  one,  like  the  lace  through 
which  the  evening  star  could  shine.  The  other, 
glowing,  substantial  flesh  and  blood,  on  whom 
the  morning  sun  was  shining.  What  is  this 
strange  thing  called  beauty  ?  —  for  both  of  these 
wear  beauty  like  a  garment ;  perfect  each,  won- 
derful each,  yet  as  unlike  as  two  different  worlds. 
Ah,  that  is  it ;  it  is  a  matter  of  two  different 
worlds.  "The  glory  of  the  celestial  is  one,  the 
glory  of  the  terrestrial  is  another." 

"Come,  Paul."  Puss  reached  out  and  took  his 
hand  as  he  approached.  "  I  may  tell  you  now, 
Paul  Havens,  that  I  have  loved  you,  very  dearly.'-' 

Paul  bowed  himself  over  the  hand,  and  kissed 
it  with  unutterable  emotion. 

"And  now  I  am  so  happy  to  join  your  hands. 
Clara,  your  house  on  the  avenue  is  almost  done, 
they  tell  me." 

"  But,  precious  cousin "  then  the  lips 

melted  like  wax  and  could  not  go  on. 

"I  know,"  Puss  continued,  "you  think  you 
are  a  beggar.  You  suppose  the  house  went  to 
pay  your  papa's  debts.  I  bought  it.  Dear 


456  DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 

Andrew  got  the  deed  for  me.  It  is  now  in 
your  name.  I  have  talked  it  all  over  with 
papa.  I  have  left  all  I  have,  and  it  is  a  large, 
sum,  you  know,  to  you  and  Paul." 

"  Never!" 

"Never!" 

"  Hush !  It  is  done.  Paul  Havens  can  now 
be  pastor  to  the  city's  poor  and  take  no  wages ! 
See  ?  And  you,  dear  girl,  will  have  just  this  to 
do,  namely :  to  make  his  home  a  sunny  place 
every  evening  as  he  comes  wearily  in  from  the 
unsunned  abodes  of  the  city's  misery.  For  years 
and  years  he  will  toil,  and  I  shall  be  looking 
down.  I  have  happiness  beyond  telling.  I  endow 
no  asylum.  His  heart  is  the  asylum  of  a  hundred 
thousand  of  the  city's  blind.  I  build  no  church. 
He  is  the  church,  the  unnamed,  unclaimed  church, 
for  all  the  weary  and  heavy-laden,  and  he  is  founded 
on  him  who  went  about  doing  good  —  any  good 
he  could  !  Kiss  me  !  Now  leave  me  for  a  while." 

They  kissed  her  and  left  her  for  a  while. 
Even  yet  it  seems  only  a  little  while.  A  very 
little  while  for  so  much  peace  and  joy  to  have 
come  to  so  many  hearts. 

A  little  while  it  seems  to  Bella  Havens,  not 
an  actress  after  all,  bending  now  her  high  cour- 
age to  be  a  fit  help-meet  to  her  husband,  An- 


OUT  OF  LIFE  INTO  LIFE.  457 

drew  Norcross,  in  his  Crosston  toil ;  a  very  lit- 
tle while  since  the  flame  of  that  young  Christian 
life  caught  hers  and  burned  up  all  its  bitterness. 

A  little  while,  Pastor  Havens,  since,  after  all, 
from  the  hands  of  a  disciple  was  flung  to  you 
the  price  of  bread  and  shelter  for  your  old  ,age 
in  the  neat  suburban  home ;  where  you  sit 
daily  in  the  warm  sun  of  your  boy's  rising  honors, 
and  whisper  to  him  of  sweet  humility. 

A  little  while,  Joe  Nevada,  senators,  presidents 
—  but  why  mention  them  ?  Forgotten  in  such 
a  little  while,  a  very  little  while.  The  swift  mu- 
tations that  overwhelm  a  silver  mine  did  it. 
The  Nevadas  have  exhausted  their  vein.  Their 
names  have  long  since  been  chalked  off  the 
bulletin  at  the  Exchange. 

If  Nora  and  her  husband,  good  Stephen  Crane, 
shall  return  this  season,  as  is  expected,  having 
completed  their  first  ten  successful  years,  and  so 
having  earned  their  right  to  vacation  in  their 
native  land,  why  then  Paul  Havens'  splendid  resi- 
dence —  the  one  which  Clara  built,  you  remem- 
ber—will be  opened  to  such  a  fond  reception, 
and  so  many  of  "  our  best  people "  will  throng 
to  honor  Havens'  invitation,  the  bronzed  mission- 
aries will  almost  tremble  for  "the  pride  of  life." 

Yet  Paul  Havens  and  Clara,  his  wife,  the  grace- 


DOLLARS  AND  DUTY. 


ful  hostess  of  many  such  meetings  of  "  the  best 
circles,"  are  not  leaders  in  Vanity  Fair.  This 
young  man,  busy  about  his  old  errands  —  doing 
men  any  good  —  and  munificent  with  his  wealth, 
has  succeeded  to  the  benevolent  and  social  lead- 
ership, which  the  aged  William  Norcross  resigned. 

Over  and  over  again,  Paul's  aged  mother,  fon- 
dling his  only  child,  exclaims,  "My  beautiful  boy, 
would  to  God  you  may  live  to  take  up  the  min- 
istry ;  such  ministry  as  your  father's.  Live  to  do 
any  good  you  can  to  man  !  " 

And  the  beautiful,  proud  mother  of  the  child, 
beams  on  them  her  approval.  This  charming 
wife  —  I  caught  sight  of  her  this  evening,  stand- 
ing just  within  the  curtains  of  her  wide  windows, 
and  revealed  against  the  flash  of  evening  grate, 
as  she  watched  for  his  coming  —  welcomes  Paul 
Havens,  the  untitled,  unsalaried  toiler,  with  good 
cheer  ;  for  she  knows  that  he  bends  his  back 
all  day  like  a  laboring  man,  among  the  poor,  the 
sick,  the  idle,  and  the  vicious,  his  only  business 
doing  men  any  possible  good,  to  body,  and  mind, 
and  spirit,  in  a  great  city,  where  his  sort  of  busi- 
ness is  never  slack. 

Try  it,  some  of  you  rich  men,  who  do  not 
know  what  to  do  with  yourselves,  and  who  are 
tired  of  the  club. 


